Bright Eyes
by JennaRay
Summary: He tells me I should have walked away when I had the chance, but this pretty-eyed stranger doesn't know what he's gotten himself into with me.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

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I turn the corner, and he's sitting at the table with the broken leg. He's glaring at that _fucking_ whiskey bottle _again_. But this time, I'm not sure if he wants to drink it or smash it. And judging by the look on his face, maybe over someone's head.

And I'm not even sure why he brought the damned thing.

"This place smells like sewage," I tell him.

"Open a window."

I hear the others upstairs, tromping around this house of horrors. I won't be surprised when one of them falls through the ceiling or something.

"Why did you bring us here?"

"It was the only remote place that I could think of."

I gape at him.

"Remote? What the hell's going on?"

He ignores me, reaching into his pocket to retrieve what I already know will be his cigarettes. I'm fuming, because I'm so fucking confused and I hate that. Besides, if I have to watch him smoke _one more fucking cigarette_, I'm going to lose my shit.

"Whose house is this?" I demand.

He ignores me again.

I've had enough. I've had enough of the fucking cigarettes and the whiskey bottle that he'll never open. I've had enough of the shadiness and the secrets. I've had enough of him ignoring me. I've had enough of him walking away.

So I'm going to do it this time.

I'm going to be the one to walk away.

"You know what?" I scoff, shaking my head. "Forget this. I'm fucking leaving…"

I don't hang around to see his reaction. I turn on my heel and go to leave the kitchen, ready to go rally up the others and take anyone who doesn't want to stick around to be murdered fucking _Friday the 13__th_ style.

But then…

"Stop," he commands.

And he sounds different. His voice is slightly rougher, angry maybe. I turn slowly as he stands, the wooden legs of the chair scraping against the battered wooden planks beneath them.

"Stop for what?" I challenge.

"No one's leaving this fucking house."

Now his voice is smooth, too smooth, and menacing. I look into his eyes, _really look_, for the first time in a while. I inhale sharply. His eyes are dark and intense and threatening. He means what he just said, and he wants me to know it.

"What's going on?" My voice shakes more than I want it to.

"I think it's time I tell you the truth, Bella."

In an instant, my heart is fluttering and not in a good way. Something in his tone awakens something in my gut. I know instinctively that I should be nervous. Afraid, even.

And I am.

"The truth about what?" I manage to croak.

And with the words he says next, my whole world, everything that I've tried so desperately to hold together in the last many years…

Shatters.


	2. Bright Eyes

**Disclaimer****: Twilight Character names belong to Stephanie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. No copying, reproduction, or translation of this story is permitted.**

**A/N: There is nothing I can say to express how thankful I am for everyone involved in making this story happen. This story wouldn't exist without Charity and the fact that she made this banner is just the icing on the cake. **

**I am also lucky enough to have MariahajilE and Layathomemom on my side again with this one, and I'm thrilled to add LaMomo and Serenshadow into the mix to have their hands in this as well. Without them, you would surely be reading a mess of the crazy shit that goes on in my head. Thank you ladies for all that you do.**

**Without further delay, I am so excited to share with you: **

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**Bright Eyes**

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"Come on, Bella," Emmett complained. "You have to come. It's Jasper's going away party. You can't miss that!"

I smiled at my brother's enthusiasm. He was a walking ball of endless energy, ready to throw a party at the first hint of a reason, even something as inconsequential as his roommate moving across town. Admittedly, he could be exhausting at times, but I found his gusto for life charming. Even though he had a few years on me, I felt a sense of protectiveness over his childlike effervescence.

But that didn't mean I wanted to go.

"I don't know, Em. I'm kinda beat."

"Don't be a pussy, Bella. I'm old compared to you, and I'm not tired at all."

Sitting on my new bedroom floor amongst a bunch of moving boxes, Emmett flashed me a toothy grin. We'd been moving all day, but you wouldn't have known it by looking at him. Bright-eyed and beaming, he looked completely fresh.

Even as his sister, I could appreciate Emmett's looks. Tall with a naturally solid frame, the hours he put in at the gym every day had catapulted him to a level that impressed. Women gawked at him when he walked by, but I guess that was the point. The time he spent on his body was an investment in his career. Emmett called it exotic dancing; I called it selling his goods to horny housewives on girls' nights.

"I'm not a pussy. I'm just not used to this humidity," I countered.

"Don't say 'pussy.'"

"But you just said 'pussy.'"

"I'm not somebody's baby sister."

I rolled my eyes. Emmett cursed like a sailor, but he would reprimand me every single time I said 'crap.'

I loved him for that.

"Look, I have things to do, anyway. I have to go to that bar, the one Jasper told me about, to see about a job."

"So we'll go get drinks there then."

He stared at me expectantly, blinking, and I couldn't help but laugh. His gaze looked like that of an eager child. His eyes always seemed to have a sparkle of youth and freshness. We were opposites in that way. I'd been told that my eyes, though the same exact color of his, reflected an old soul.

"We can't go get sloshed there if I'm hoping to land a job, Emmett."

He opened his mouth to respond, but I continued before he had a chance. "Look, it's not like he's actually leaving the city. He's just moving out. And you guys should be with your friends, anyway. You don't need me tagging along. Let's just do something chill with him tomorrow night, okay?"

It couldn't even really be considered a party, just drinks. And really, Jasper had _already _moved out. They used that as an excuse for them to party, not that I could blame them for wanting to commemorate the three years they'd lived together. Jasper first moved into Emmett's house as a stranger. They were parting ways as best friends. Brothers, they said. It was definitely something to celebrate. Despite that, I knew Jasper wouldn't miss my presence. We weren't exactly _friends_. I was his best friend's little sister. Still, he'd been cool to me when I would visit Emmett and quick to help me consider job placements when I first started thinking about moving in. He'd given me my lead on the bar, the only lead that had what I was looking for.

It felt nice to be invited. Jasper's reason for leaving, moving in with his fiancée, made for a happy reason for everyone to get together.

But Houston's humidity and mugginess had my focus solely on taking a shower and going to find a job.

"Okay?" I asked again when I still hadn't received a response from him.

My brother stared me down with slightly narrowed eyes.

Really, Emmett was only my half-brother. Really, I'd only known him for less than half my life.

And really, I loved him as if he were made out of my own soul.

"Deal," he conceded eventually. "We're meeting with potential roommates in the afternoon, but we can hang out with Jasper later. I can cook!"

My room had been vacant for months, waiting for me, but now that I'd arrived, Jasper's room needed an occupant. Emmett wanted to find another roommate to help out with the bills, and we had three people lined up to come over the next day to scope it out.

"Oh, um..." My brother seemed to think he belonged on the Food Network, and I didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise. "Awesome. Can't wait."

He beamed up at me, thrilled, and that made the lie worth it.

Then, I dismissed him from my room so I could change out of my yoga pants and into something a little more appropriate for job hunting. I only wanted to bartend, but I still wanted to make a good first impression.

After a quick shower and an even quicker wardrobe change, I hurried out of the house to avoid any further discussion with Emmett about attending Jasper's gathering that evening. When I stepped outside, the thick Houston air enveloped me, the scent and sounds around me igniting a sense of adventure somewhere deep inside of me. This would be my second time starting over in life, and this time, I felt determined to make it even better than the last.

Houston seemed nothing like where I'd come from but too much like a place I'd been. The humidity reminded me of the place I'd lived the first fourteen years of my life: New York. Or Hell, as I liked to call it.

At fourteen, I'd been shipped off to California to live with my dad, the parent I shared with Emmett. The dryness there provided a reprieve from the mugginess of New York, and I had access to pretty beaches. Now I'd picked up and moved my whole life a second time, 1,500 miles away from the first place that had ever felt like home: Blythe, California.

"Hey, Bella," I heard on my way out to the driveway. "Did you get all moved in?"

I'd met Jerry, a middle-aged man who lived next door to Emmett, earlier that day while hauling boxes. He owned a local flooring company, and I knew he had to do well for himself to live in that neighborhood. Emmett afforded all the nice things he had from his success stripping and a roommate to share the bills with, but poor Jerry did not have good looks on his side. He had a receding hairline, outdated glasses with big lenses, and a goofy smile. He had a sweet disposition, though.

"Hardly," I scoffed. "My room is packed with boxes."

"You taking a break?"

"Off to apply for a job. Can you tell me how to get to Washington Avenue? I know we're super close, but I'm not sure which direction."

I felt fortunate Emmett owned a house in the heart of downtown because of our close proximity to so many places. Life and activity bustled everywhere around us, adding to the adventurous feeling bubbling in my gut.

"Oh, we're real close to Washington," Jerry assured me. "Go straight east until you get to the first stop sign. Turn right, and Washington is only two lights down."

"Perfect! Thanks!"

I grimaced when I slipped in behind the wheel of my Jetta and heat swallowed me. Because of the sun beating down on it all day, a scorching heat filled the car. I felt my skin starting to get clammy immediately, so I quickly started the engine to get the air conditioner on.

I enjoyed the drive down streets lined with big oak trees and colorful flowers. Joggers, strollers, and people dressed in business attire looking hurried filled the sidewalks. The atmosphere differed greatly from that of California. I definitely felt like an outsider, but at the same time, I felt like I could fit in here easily. It might take some time, but I had a feeling I'd be able to find my footing just fine.

I found my way to the bar easily but soon realized that parking is a problem in Houston. For a city with such little public transportation, I couldn't wrap my mind around where they expected all the damn cars to go. I had to circle the block three times until I spotted a car pulling away from the curb, where it'd been parallel parked. I bit my lip hard as I waited anxiously for the car to get out of my way. Traffic backed up behind me, and I was on the verge of an anxiety attack when impatient people started honking. Some brave people ‒ the real Houstonians, I guess ‒ simply went around me, weaving in and out of traffic with a comfort I balked at.

Once I'd finally managed to squeeze into the spot along the curb, I sighed with relief. Apparently, I was more of a fish out of water than I'd realized.

I spotted a cute little coffee shop called The Brewhouse right next door to the bar. As a serious coffee junkie, this delighted me. If I did in fact land a job at the bar, the close proximity of a coffee shop would be a major bonus. As far as the job thing went, I didn't feel nervous about walking in to ask for one. Jasper told me about that bar specifically, because he had a buddy who immigrated illegally and used to work there. The owner had let him slide by with no social security card or I.D., and that made the bar exactly the kind of place I needed to be, exactly the kind of place I _knew_. I'd been working in bars like that since the day I'd turned eighteen.

That wasn't what I wanted to do, but that's how it had to be.

Unwilling to get worked up thinking about the reasons why, I pushed the thought to the very back of my mind, as I so often did. I returned my attention to The Brewhouse and sidestepped an older woman coming out of the door. We exchanged friendly nods as I passed her. A bell at the top of the door signaled my entry and prompted the barista to look up with a bright smile.

"Hi, welcome to The Brewhouse!" she greeted me cheerfully.

I paused to take in her striking beauty, momentarily dazed. Jet black hair, long and straight as a board, hung from a ponytail tied up high on her head. Deeply tanned mocha-colored skin made her dark green eyes stand out so they appeared a little lighter. She had perfectly straight white teeth behind plump, pink lips. She looked like she belonged on a photoshoot, not behind the counter of a coffee shop. She had the kind of looks that turned other girls into bitches in the name of envy.

But me? I didn't care about that shit. The less I stood out, the better.

"Hey, thanks," I answered, returning her smile.

She held my gaze just long enough to decide I wasn't ready to order and went back to wiping down the counter. I took a step forward, inhaling the beloved aroma of coffee beans. A couple of patrons sat at a small wrought iron table in the corner, but they were the only ones around. I hoped that could be attributed to the time of day and not taken as a sign that they sold shitty coffee.

The barista looked up at me again when I stepped up to the counter. My head tipped back to scan over the chalkboard menus posted up high.

"Can I help you?" she asked warmly.

"Um, yeah." I felt her eyes on me as I inspected the menu in search of something familiar. "Sorry, I've never been here before. I've got the Starbucks menu memorized, so I'm really not used to putting any thought into this."

"Ahh. A Starbucks girl," she smiled knowingly. "What's your drink there?"

"Um, hazelnut macchiato."

"Hot or cold?"

"Cold."

"No problem. Size?"

"Uh…" My eyes scanned the counter again, this time looking for some indication to their sizing system. "Venti?"

She smirked as she reached for the biggest cup.

"You can say large, babydoll. It's okay. We go by English sizes here, not Italian numbers."

I quirked an eyebrow at her.

"You got some kinda grudge against Starbucks?"

She shrugged.

"They sell overpriced, shitty coffee."

"I'm anxious to try yours then."

"It's gonna be $3.08"

"Wow, you're cheaper."

"For Starbucks prices, I would expect that coffee to come with some Kahlua."

I laughed softly, reaching into my bag to fish out my wallet. I handed her four dollar bills, and she gave me back a handful of change, which I deposited into the tip jar. She winked at me before walking off to make my coffee, swinging her hips and ponytail back and forth as she moved to the rhythm of Lana Del Rey playing over the speakers.

"Do you have a bathroom?" I asked.

She looked back at me over her shoulder.

"Yeah, right around this corner," she told me, nodding towards the other end of the counter.

"Thanks. I'll be right back."

I didn't have to use the restroom, but I wanted to make sure that I looked okay before going in to the bar. I slipped through the door and stepped towards the sink, digging my compact out of my purse. The fluorescent lighting in the bathroom was harsh on my skin but useful when it came to re-touching my makeup. I added some lip gloss and eyeliner, not wanting to look totally plain Jane. I leaned close to the mirror to apply my eyeliner, staring into my honey-colored eyes, the lightest of the hazel variety. To others, I was sure my eyes would appear tragically ordinary, but I adored them. They were my dad's eyes, Emmett's eyes, and the first connection I ever felt to them.

I didn't grow up knowing my dad and Emmett. At a young age, common sense taught me I did in fact _have _a dad, but until I went to live with him, I never knew I had a brother. My parents had been engaged once upon a time, but my mother ran off when she found out she was pregnant. I never knew why. I always assumed that my dad must've been an asshole or something, and my mom never talked about him. When I went to live with him, though, he turned out to be the nicest man I'd ever met. He put up with all of my bullshit with nothing but patience and empathy. Regretfully, my mom was dead by then, and I never had the chance to ask her why she kept me from him.

I took a deep breath, stowing my makeup away and pulling out my hairbrush. I combed through my chocolate brown hair, hoping to put some bounce into it. I would need to color it again soon. Naturally, my hair was somewhere on the border of dirty blonde and the lightest shade of sandy brown. At twelve, my mom let me start highlighting it to play up the blonde in it. Blonde, the color I preferred on myself, worked well with my complexion, but I would continue to color it dark. As long as _he_ remained out there, I would have dark hair.

I stared at myself in the mirror, and the eyes that looked back at me were full of hope and anticipation, a look that I wasn't accustomed to seeing on myself. If I looked hard enough, though, I knew I would see uneasiness. Restlessness and fear always lingered there, under the surface, and above all of that remained alertness.

I sighed, bringing my hand up to reach for my necklace, my mother's, sliding the pendant back and forth between my fingers.

"Watch over me here, mom," I whispered.

A knock on the door startled me. I jumped, dropping my necklace so it dangled back down on my chest.

"You okay in there, babydoll?" the barista asked me through the door.

I must've been in there longer than I thought.

"Yeah," I called back. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'll be right out."

By the time I left the bathroom, she was behind the counter again, leaning over it with her head resting in her hands. Her eyes followed me as I made my way over to her, watching me intently. As I approached, she slid my drink towards me, nodding at it.

"Go ahead. Try it."

I snatched up a straw and peeled away the wrapper before stabbing it through the plastic lid. I took a sip and found myself pleased by the perfectly blended, rich beverage that filled my mouth.

"Mmm… It's good," I admitted. "Really good."

"Told you."

"You were right. In my defense, though, I never challenged you."

"You doubted me. I'm good at reading people. Anyway, this means you have to come back and see me now."

"I'll be back," I assured her.

"Looking forward to it."

"Have a good day."

"You, too, Starbucks Girl."

I laughed, shaking my head and turning away, headed for the door. I stepped back out into the humidity and sound of car horns and indecipherable chatter from the crowded sidewalk in front of me. As I went to take another sip of my coffee, I noticed two people ahead walking way too fast. A mousy-looking woman collided with a man distracted by his cell phone. He hit her hard with his shoulder, hard enough to knock her purse off her arm and onto the sidewalk, where the contents spilled about all over. Although it happened unintentionally, the prick didn't have the decency to mutter an apology.

"Hey!" I called after him. "A fucking 'sorry' would've been nice, asshole!"

I looked down at the woman who gazed up at me with wide, surprised eyes.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"I couldn't help myself." I shrugged. "What a dick."

I really couldn't help myself. After years of working in bars, it found it impossible to take bullshit from people without speaking up.

"Yeah," she sighed, starting to collect all of her items.

I hurried over to help her, snatching up various items and trying not to get my fingers stepped on by more assholes walking by without a second glance. One of them came dangerously close to smashing my hand, and I looked upwards, opening my mouth to yell at them.

But then, something else caught my attention: a man standing several feet away, watching us intently. Whomever had been about to get an earful of sass from me walked on without hearing a word of it, as I now found myself inexplicably and wholly captivated by this other stranger. He wore sadly plain clothing: black jeans and a dark grey zip-up hoodie. But the tall, commanding figure that filled them literally made him stand out in a crowd.

Despite that, though, something else held my attention so entrancingly. His face... A face that made all of the air leave my body in a single exhale.

_Oh, my God._

His eyes locked on mine, the world around us moving in an apparent slow motion. His whole presence exuded masculinity. This was the kind of man that commanded all the attention in a room. The kind of man that made knees weaken, hearts flutter, and stomachs flip flop.

I couldn't look away from his face. He was _beautiful_. He had skin of caramel-colored perfection that glowed. His features, sharp and defined, boasted all angles and lines that couldn't have been chiseled that spectacularly from marble. Black scruff from a day or two without shaving covered his chin and cheeks, the same color as the inky black mess of hair that covered his head. Every single inch of him looked hard, except for his lips. His lips, pink pillows of edible-looking flesh, appeared baby soft even from far away.

And the eyes… My God, the eyes.

He had the brightest eyes I'd ever seen, nothing like the barista's deep green eyes. These eyes shined with a vibrant color; a cross somewhere between aqua and mint. They had to be colored contacts. Surely that color couldn't be natural. They were too beautiful. And the way they stared into mine made me feel like they looked right into my soul, like they could read every thought and every fear I'd ever had. They were magnificently unnerving.

Not until I felt a tap on my shoulder did my sense of hearing return to me.

"Um, ma'am? Ma'am? Did you hear me?"

I snapped out of my trance, my head whipping back towards the lady who'd dropped her purse.

"What? Um, no. No, sorry."

"I said, can I have my comb back?"

I looked at her for a moment, confused, before I remembered picking up her things off the sidewalk. I realized that I held her comb in my hand, and I blinked at her as I handed it out to her.

"Here," I breathed, still feeling dazed.

"Um, thanks." She looked at me like I had three heads. "And thanks again for the help."

"Sure."

She stood up. I looked over toward the beautiful man, desperate for another glimpse of him, but Bright Eyes was nowhere to be seen. My heart ached.

I stood up on unsteady legs and took a deep breath, stumbling away from The Brewhouse and toward the bar.

"Get a fucking grip, Bella," I scolded myself, shaking my head at my own ridiculousness.

I lingered outside the bar for a while, leaning back against the cool glass of the windows while I sipped my coffee and gathered my bearings. He was just a man. With every second that passed, I felt sillier and sillier for having such a reaction to him. He dripped masculinity and allure. So what?

There went Bright Eyes. Out of sight, out of mind.

I finished my coffee and tossed it into the trashcan before I entered the bar. Early enough still for a slow flow of patrons, I'd managed the perfect timing for an impromptu interview.

I walked up to the bar, where a young woman was whistling while wiping down beer mugs. She had black and purple hair, a nose ring, and wore vibrant red lipstick that stood out dramatically against her pale skin. As a headband, she wore a red handkerchief that matched the lipstick perfectly.

"Hey, there." She smiled at me, approaching her. "What can I do you for?"

"I'm actually here to apply for a job. Is the owner around?"

Her eyes scanned me up and down, but not in a catty way. She was evaluating whether I would fit in there. I got it. It was a bartender thing.

"He's looking for someone to work days. What's your availability?"

I noticed that she hadn't directly answered my question but found solace in the fact she found me worthy of inquiring my availability.

"Any time, day or night. I live, like, two minutes away."

"You got experience?"

"I've been behind a bar for the last five years."

"Yeah? Around here?"

"No. California. I just moved here. Like, literally today," I answered with a laugh.

She held my gaze for a moment, possibly looking for a sign of weakness or self-doubt, before she smiled.

"All right. Let me go grab Sam. He interviewed some skanky blonde this morning, but she didn't have much experience."

I beamed at her.

"Awesome. Thank you."

"Wait here. I'll be right back."

I waited patiently, drumming my fingers on the bar top as she slipped to the back. My eyes passed slowly over the different bottles of liquor lined up behind the bar. I noticed a menu sitting on the bar and reached out to slide it towards me. They served typical pub food: fish and chips and such. The fact they served food meant bigger tips, and that was another bonus for me. I knew working there, a small and simple place, would be a piece of cake.

The door to the back swung open, and I looked up. The girl reappeared with a man by her side. Tall and slender with dusty blond hair and a beard, he appeared quite average. He wore a plaid button-down shirt and faded jeans. Rugged-looking, he possessed all the typical features of a guy in the business of getting people drunk. The girl gestured to me, and his eyes shifted in my direction. I smiled the friendliest smile I could, and he gave me a nod in return as he came toward me.

"Hey," he acknowledged, giving me second nod. "You're lookin' for work?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am." I straightened my top and stood a little taller. "I'm Bella."

"Sam," he answered, holding his hand out to me.

I shook his calloused hand, making eye contact with him.

"It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he responded with a soft smile, releasing my hand. "What kinda hours you lookin' for?"

"Any hours you have. I live just around the corner, and my availability is wide open."

"And you just moved here?"

"From California."

"What brings you to Houston?"

"Just, you know… Fresh start, I guess."

He reached up to rub at his wiry beard, just under his chapped lips.

"Hmmm. That's unusual."

"What's unusual?"

"Usually people make the journey from Texas to California for a fresh start. It's not very often you hear of it working the other way around."

"Oh. Well, I have a free place to stay for a while, so Houston it is."

"You got any experience bartending?"

"Five years."

"Just to be clear, I'm not talking working the bar at Chili's," he said with a slight smile.

"Neither am I."

"Good. I'm looking for a seasoned bartender."

"I'm your girl." I chewed on my lip nervously before I continued. "There's a catch, though."

"A catch?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

"I came to apply specifically at this bar, because I have a friend who has a buddy who used to work here."

"Who?"

"I don't remember his name. He worked in the kitchen. My point is he was an immigrant without papers, but you took him."

He looked at me for a moment.

"You an immigrant without papers?" he asked with humor in his tone.

"Not an immigrant, but I don't have papers either."

"Meaning?"

"I have no social and no I.D."

I had both, but I wasn't about to give them to him.

"And why's that?" he asked, watching me inquisitively.

"I left home when I was fourteen. I didn't take my social security card or my birth certificate."

"You're a runaway?"

The look on his face wasn't good.

"No. I _was _a runaway. I'm 23 years old. I don't think I can be classified as a runaway anymore."

He stared at me.

"You got a last name, Bella?"

"Swan."

That was actually my dad's last name, not mine, but the only one Sam was going to get.

"How am I supposed to pay you?"

"Cash. Under the table, like I'm assuming you did for your illegal kitchen worker."

"I don't know, Swan. I don't make a habit of doing shady business."

"Please. I'm a hard worker. I bust my ass behind the bar. I don't mess around, and I don't deal with any bullshit. I'll be here to do the job, and I'll do it well. I swear. Just give me a chance."

He looked at me for a long time until I started to get anxious.

"I'll tell you what," he finally said. "I'll start you out on a trial basis."

_Perfect. _

"Thank you!"

"Show me what you can do behind the bar, and I'll consider bringing you on permanently."

"That's perfect. Thank you. I promise you won't regret it."

"Good."

"When do you want me to start?"

"Monday. Be here at 11:00 AM."

"Sounds great. I'll be here."

"I still need you to fill out an application with your phone number and address and all that."

"Okay."

"I'll have Ang bring it out."

"Okay. Thanks, Sam!"

He knocked once on the bar top before walking away and slipping into the back once more. I hopped up onto a barstool while I waited, excited that I'd landed a job so quickly. So far, Houston was a success.

When the girl returned from the back, she looked at me with a wide, genuine smile.

"Congrats!" she said happily as she placed the application down in front of me with a pen. "I'm really glad you came in, dude. I was dreading having that skanky blonde around."

"I'm glad I came in, too," I agreed. "Before he'd already hired her."

She laughed as she held a hand out to me.

"I'm Angela, by the way."

I shook it happily.

"Bella," I answered.

"So, you just moved here today?"

"Yup. All of my stuff is still in boxes at home."

"You sure got on the prowl for a job quick."

"I'll sleep easier tonight knowing I have a source of income."

"A woman with ambition; I can dig that."

"Do you live around here?"

"Yeah, a condo not too far from here."

"How long have you worked here?"

"About a year now. It's crazy. Doesn't feel like that long."

"Time flies," I agreed.

"So I guess it's safe to say you don't know anyone here yet."

"Nope. Just my brother."

"Well, maybe I can take you out sometime, show you around the city."

"That would be awesome!" I agreed, warmed at the thought of making my first friend so quickly.

"It'll be cool to have you around here. You'll be the only other girl."

"Oh, really? Guess we'll have to stick together."

"Guess so." She laughed.

.

.

.

.

I slept in late the next day, apparently more exhausted from moving than I'd realized. I woke disheartened to remember I'd fallen asleep in a room full of boxes, and I had a busy day ahead of me. I spent hours unpacking, trying to find places in that little room for every possession I had. When I realized I'd have to share a bathroom with whichever roommate we selected, I felt a little bummed. Emmett had his own in the master bedroom, and there was a half-bathroom off the hall, but the two remaining bedrooms shared a Jack and Jill-style bathroom with separate toilets and one shower. I tried to find the silver lining in my own toilet.

I only took a break for lunch. Emmett ordered pizza, and we ate it on the couch, watching _South Park_. We shared an appreciation for that show, something that had bonded us when we'd first met as teenagers, and it brought back sweet memories to watch it with him while I moved in. It was exciting to embark on the adventure of living with my brother. I'd never lived with him before. When I first moved in with my dad, Emmett lived with his mom, Sue. She only lived a couple miles away from our dad, but it wasn't the same as living with him.

It was ironic the way that my dad's relationships with our moms had worked out. Sue and my dad, Charlie, were never even in a relationship. Their one-night stand resulted in Emmett. After he was born, though, they managed to become really good friends. They co-parented perfectly; a child-psychologist's dream. And I would know, because I'd been to plenty of them.

My parents each pretended the other didn't exist, and Emmett's were best friends. Go figure.

After our little pizza party, I only had a couple more hours to spend unpacking before our first potential roommate was set to come over to meet with us. By the time he showed up, I was red-faced and sweating, with my hair piled on my head, and the sleeves of my t-shirt were rolled up under my armpits. I'm sure I made a stunning impression. It turned out to be fine, though, as we didn't like him anyway. He talked like a robot and smelled like mothballs. We had a hard time holding our laughter in long enough for him to leave.

We were still laughing about potential roommate number one when potential roommate number two arrived, this one a female. She actually turned out to be pretty cool, but she had a cat. I was allergic, and I got onto Emmett for not thinking to ask and letting her waste her time coming over.

Potential roommate number three was a half hour late, so I went back to unpacking. I was lining up my shoes on the floor of my closet when I heard Emmett yelling at me from the living room.

"Bella!" His booming voice rang through the whole house. "He's here!"

"This one better be worth fucking talking to…" I muttered to myself, getting up from kneeling on the closet floor.

I huffed and shoved some fallen hair out of my face, tromping out of my bedroom and down the hall. I rounded the corner ready for disappointment.

But then there, in my new living room, stood Bright Eyes.

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**A/N: Please take a moment to share your thoughts with me! For my Trophy Wife readers, this story will alternate Sunday updates with TW until TW completes, and then this will update every Sunday.**

**You can find me on Twitter JennaRayFF or Facebook at J Ray Fanfiction**

**Thanks for reading! **


	3. Three's Company

**A/N: I am so tickled by the reaction to chapter 1 and want to pour love all over anyone returning for more. **

**My undying gratitude goes to my beta-love birthday-weekend girl MariahajilE, Layathomemom, LaMamo, and Serenshadow for…well, everything. Seriously. Everything.**

**And JiffyKate! Thank you, ladies. I will forever trade words with you.**

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**Chapter 2 **

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Bright Eyes stood with his hands half-sheathed by the pockets of his faded grey jeans, staring at me. For a moment, I couldn't breathe. His t-shirt, a sinful shade of red, made him even more agonizingly alluring than he'd appeared the first time I saw him.

I came to an abrupt stop, my feet feeling like they were stuck in blocks of cement. My upper body jerked forward a bit as I steadied myself and blinked a few times, trying to comprehend this man standing before me in my living room. Then I knew I hadn't been hallucinating the day before. He remained the most striking and beautiful male specimen I'd ever laid eyes on. He reached up to push back some of his unruly jet-black hair, and I noticed a tattoo covering his forearm, adding to the bad-boy allure that had my nerve endings buzzing. When his tongue peeked out to wet his bottom lip, my toes flexed against the hardwood beneath my feet, fighting an instinctive urge to move toward him.

I was awestruck by this stranger.

I was so innately aware of him that even the smallest move − shifting his weight from one foot to the other − seemed to physically reallocate all of the space around me. I couldn't remember ever feeling that before; such an acute consciousness of every molecule of someone's presence.

"Hello, Bella."

My stomach clenched at the sound of his voice. I didn't know someone's voice could be smooth and raspy at the same time. The seductive deepness of it alone proved to be enough to make me blush.

When my daze wore off, I wondered for a brief moment how he knew my name, but I determined he'd either just heard Emmett say it, he'd told him, or maybe both.

"Hi," I answered stupidly.

"Sit down, dude. Make yourself at home," Emmett encouraged.

Anxiety flooded me at the thought he literally _did _want to make himself at home. He wanted to live there.

"Thanks," Bright Eyes responded, though his eyes didn't leave mine.

We both stepped sideways at the same time, in opposite directions. He moved one way, and I moved the other, feeling like I had to keep my current amount of distance from him to avoid combustion from the energy crackling between us. We moved in some sort of predatory circle. The problem was that I wasn't sure which one of us was the predator and which was the prey.

"So, I only have a few questions," Emmett said, invading the thick silence. "We spoke about the important stuff on the phone, but I wanted you to stop by to meet us in person."

Our heated gaze broke at last when Bright Eyes looked away from me and over at Emmett. Free from the enchantment those mystifying eyes had on me, I did the same. I blinked at my brother, baffled by the casual tone of his statement. Could he seriously be oblivious to the silent stand-off I'd just had with this man in our living room? Could he not feel the tension?

"Sure. Ask me anything you'd like," Bright Eyes obliged.

I looked back over at him just as he sat down in one of my brother's recliners.

"I know you," I blurted out before I could stop myself. "You're that guy… That guy from yesterday."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to slap myself. I could have said something normal to him, or at least gotten a few sentences out before I went all accusatory on him, but I went with the lunatic route instead. The look on his face didn't make me feel any better about it, either.

"Um…" His eyebrows pulled together as he looked up at me. "I'm sorry?"

"Wait. You two have met each other already?" Emmett asked, surprised.

"I don't think so, no," Bright Eyes responded, obviously confused.

My first inclination was to wonder how he couldn't remember our powerful encounter the day before, but then the prospect occurred to me that maybe he hadn't experienced the same thing I had. _I'd _been completely captivated by _him_, sure, but it seemed a definite possibility he hadn't even noticed me. We'd made eye contact, but that didn't mean I'd been memorable. To him, I very well could have been just a faceless stranger on the street.

"I… I'm sorry," I said hurriedly, trying to backpedal. "Maybe it wasn't you. I just thought… You just looked familiar."

"I don't remember seeing you before. Sorry."

I may have wanted to slap myself before; now I just wanted to disappear.

"Um, right… Anyway…" Emmett drawled, finally picking up on the awkwardness in the room. "I told you on the phone how much the rent would be. You would pay a third of the utility bills."

"All right," Bright Eyes answered.

I looked back over at him, and his gaze was locked on me again, making me tingle all over.

"Do you have any pets?" Emmett asked.

"No."

"What do you do for a living?"

"I work from home."

"Oh, so you'd be here a lot?" my brother continued.

"Yes."

"Well, that's good, actually. I'm gone a lot, and I work late into the night, so it would be nice to know someone is around here with my sister."

I glared at Emmett.

"God, Emmett… I don't need a babysitter…" I seethed, mortified.

"Of course not, but you're my baby sister. I don't like the thought of you here alone late at night."

I huffed, looking away from him and shaking my head as he embarrassed me further. My eyes somehow found their way back to Bright Eyes, who stared at me with a blank expression.

"Look," he began, turning his head back to Emmett, which allowed me to relax a little. "Let me cut to the chase. I'm a quiet guy. I won't have any visitors, and you won't hear much from me. I'll pay you on time every month. Is there anything else you need to know?"

I gaped at him, surprised by his straightforwardness. The other prospective roommates had been overly friendly, trying too hard to impress us, but this guy didn't bullshit around. I couldn't decide if I found his cold directness refreshing or unsettling.

"I guess not. Like I said, we covered most of it on the phone." Emmett paused for a moment. "You'd have to share a bathroom with my sister. Is that cool?"

"That's fine."

I was somewhat surprised Emmett seemed to be considering this guy, but when I thought about it, he was the only viable option.

"Well, I guess that's it," Emmett said when it was clear Bright Eyes wasn't up for any small talk. "We'll talk it over and give you a call, okay?"

"I look forward to hearing from you," Bright Eyes answered as he stood up.

I watched Emmett walk him to the door. They both stopped in front of it, and Emmett extended his hand, which Bright Eyes took and shook firmly.

"Good meeting you, Edward," my brother said, offering him a nod.

Bright Eyes had a name. Edward.

"Likewise," Edward answered.

Emmett opened the door for him, and he stepped outside.

"Well, what do you think?" Emmett asked me, once he'd closed the door.

I stared at the door for a long moment before I looked at him.

"He was weird."

"Oh, come on. Not as weird as the mothball guy," he retorted, laughing. "He's just quiet, which is probably a good thing. I don't think either one of us wants to live with some loud, obnoxious person."

"Yeah, I guess," I relented.

Still, there was something about Bright Eyes I couldn't shake − something other than finding him insanely attractive.

"Besides, he's the only one out of the three I would even consider."

"That's true."

"How do you feel about him being a guy, though?"

I shrugged, biting at my thumbnail. I knew why he asked. I'd already considered it. When I first went to live with my dad, I'd been very uncomfortable around men I didn't know. I grew up with no father figure in my life at all, until my mother married my stepfather. Since he'd single-handedly destroyed my life, I became very apprehensive about men for a long time. As I'd gotten older and gone through therapy, I'd grown out of it somewhat, but I knew Emmett would consider it when choosing a roommate. He always put my well-being before anything else. Emmett had been the first man in my life I ever truly trusted, even before my dad.

"It's fine," I replied decidedly.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Because if it makes you uncomfortable, we can keep looking for a chick."

I shook my head, not wanting to let my past dictate this decision.

"No, no. It's okay. Like you said, he's the only practical option. He seemed nice enough."

"Good," he replied with a relieved sigh. "Because moving a chick in here who isn't related to me would seriously hinder my efforts to get Rosalie back."

I rolled my eyes. Rosalie, Emmett's ex, had broken up with him a couple of months prior, because she'd gotten fed up with his stripping. I'd only met her a few times, but it hadn't taken me long to write her off as a whiney bitch. I'd been hoping he would realize he'd be better off without her, but he'd been trying to get her back for weeks.

"If you want to let him move in, I'm cool with it," I told him, not wanting to get on the subject of Rosalie.

"All right. Cool. I think he'd make a good roommate. He seems chill. And besides, I really do like the idea of having a guy around here with you at night while I'm working."

"I told you," I scoffed. "I don't need a babysitter."

I tried to keep my tone casual, but on the inside, I burned at the thought of late nights alone in the house with Bright Eyes.

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The next morning, I woke with a dull ache right in the middle of my forehead that kicked my ass for having too many beers with Emmett and Jasper during our pizza night. Still, as I made my way to the bar for my first day of work, I couldn't beat myself up too much for having too much to drink. I could drown my anxieties over living with Bright Eyes in beer, or I could spend the evening freaking out over it.

I felt I'd made the better choice.

I hesitated at the bar after walking in, not seeing anyone around and unsure whether I should just walk behind the bar or into the back. When Angela appeared through the swinging door from the back, I felt relieved to see as close to a familiar face as I would get on my first day.

"Bella!"

I jumped, not expecting her excitement, and returned her smile when she offered me one of exuberance and white teeth that stood out against bright red lipstick.

"Hey, how's it going?"

"_So_ good!"

"I see that. You're very chipper this morning."

"Well, I'm excited you're starting. And I'm even more excited that the assistant manager quit this morning."

"Oh, really? You didn't like him or something?"

"No, not really, but that's not the point. The point is I've been waiting for that position to open up. I think Sam is going to promote me."

"Oh, wow. That's awesome," I answered, genuinely happy for her. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks. I mean, it's nothing official. I just have an inkling. I'm not sure how the boys will react to me being in charge, though."

"I'm sure they'll get over it."

"They would have to," she grinned cheekily. "Anyway, come on back," she said, gesturing for me to come around the bar. "This shift is always super slow. I think that's why Sam wanted you to start out with it, so I could train you," she explained as I followed her direction. "But since you have plenty of good experience, I'm sure I won't have to teach you anything more than where we keep shit."

"Yeah, I'll be quick to catch on," I assured her. "Where should I put my bag?"

"Here." She took it from me and walked to the end of the bar, so I followed. "You can keep it here with mine," she continued as she bent over to stow it somewhere under the bar. "We're the only girls, so we don't have a particular place for purses."

"Gotcha."

"Um, let's see… I guess we can start with filling up the salt and pepper shakers. They just washed them, so we're starting from scratch."

"I really appreciate you showing me the ropes around here."

"Of course. Sam said he'd put you on my shifts for the rest of the schedule, so by the end of the week, you'll know this place like the back of your hand."

"Perfect." I smiled.

She led me into a small and crowded kitchen in the back. A man stood at the sink, spraying down a pile of dishes, but she didn't introduce me. We were only there long enough for her to snatch up a tray of empty salt and pepper shakers, and then she led the way right back out to the bar. I felt like a lost puppy following her around, but I knew it would take a day or two to figure out their routine and how things worked around there.

"So," she started as she set up shop for us to work at one end of the bar. "Did you finish getting moved in?"

"Um, kinda. Yeah," I answered as I helped her sift through metal lids. "I still have some unpacking to do, but I'm starting to get settled in."

"Are you living on your own?"

"No, with my brother."

"Oh, cool. Does he have a family or anything? Or is it just the two of you?"

She slid the container of salt to me, and I started filling up shakers while she took care of the pepper.

"Nope. Just us." I paused, realizing that wasn't entirely true. "Well, I mean, we're about to get a roommate. He doesn't have a family, though, no."

"That's awesome that you guys are close enough to live together. I have a sister, but I could _never _live with her again. She would drive me completely crazy."

"Oh, yeah. My brother and I are super close. That won't be a problem."

"Do you know the roommate, too?"

"No, I don't. Actually, that's a really weird story."

"Oh, do share!"

While we continued to work side by side, I told her all about Bright Eyes and the coincidental run-in I'd had with him the day before. She listened intently and oohed and ahhed at all the right parts, making me appreciate how nice it felt to have a girl around to talk to about such a thing. I hoped we could become friends, but if not, having a co-worker around I'd hit it off with so well felt comforting.

"Ooh, that's crazy!" she responded when I got to the part about walking in to see Bright Eyes in my living room. "Maybe he's your soulmate and fate is bringing you guys together!"

"Yeah," I snorted. "I'm sure."

"You never know. I knew a girl who had a friend who was actually married to this abusive asshole, but she kept running into this guy all around town. They had this crazy chemistry, but the chick was married, you know. So she didn't do anything about it, but they kept crossing paths at the craziest places. Well, one day, her husband beat her up super bad, and she'd had enough. She called the police, and that guy was the cop who showed up at her house! Crazy, huh? That's how fate works, I guess."

"Yeah. That didn't happen," I scoffed.

"What?"

"That didn't happen. Women make up stories like that to make themselves feel better about waiting around for true love. I guarantee whoever told you that heard it from a friend of a friend of a friend. That never _actually_ happens to anyone."

"So you don't believe in true love?"

"That's not what I said, but I'm not entirely sure I do. I've never seen it, anyway."

"You've never known anyone who was truly in love before?" she asked skeptically.

"Nope. I've never seen true love." I pressed on the lid to the last salt shaker with a snap. "I've only seen obsession."

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Since I'd be working Angela's schedule the rest of the week, I didn't have to return to work until Wednesday. That gave me Tuesday to get the rest of my unpacking done, which just happened to be the same day Bright Eyes was moving in. I found it strange he would want to move in so soon, literally the day after meeting us, but apparently, he'd told Emmett he needed to move out of his old place quickly.

In a case of terrible timing, Emmett had plans to drive three hours away that night to work a bachelorette party in some podunk little town. I didn't expect or need my brother around all the time, but I felt a little apprehensive of him being in another city while an absolute stranger moved into our house. He offered to cancel, if I wanted him to, but I wouldn't ask him to do that on my behalf. I didn't want to be responsible for him missing out on a chance to earn some easy cash.

Thankfully, Emmett planned to at least stick around long enough to let Bright Eyes in and give him a tour of the house. Upon learning he'd be there around 7:00 that evening, I looked for a reason to get the hell out of dodge, not wanting to experience a repeat of the awkward tension the day before.

I decided on a run. Running had always been my favorite way to relieve stress and clear my mind. In California, running on the beach served as my perfect outlet. In Houston, running on the streets of Emmett's neighborhood would have to suffice.

I found my stride quickly, and enjoyed the stretching of the muscles in my legs and the weight of my feet hitting the pavement. The humidity in the air engulfed me, filling my lungs heavily in my chest. It reminded me of early morning walks with my mom in New York. I remembered the dampness in the air when she used to walk me to school. I'd always hated the mugginess and the things it did to my hair, but I loved those walks with her regardless. Those walks were our time to talk about our plans for the day, our time to slow down for a bit in a city teeming with a natural rush that one could be easily swept away in. Moments like those grounded me.

Then my mom got married, and she stopped walking me to school in the mornings. She told me it was _his_ idea. She told me _he _wanted to hire a car service to take me to school, to save both of us the time. He had all the money in the world to blow, so why not?

But I wasn't stupid. I knew the real reason − the reason we weren't supposed to talk about. She loved those walks just as much as I did, but she didn't want to risk anyone at my school seeing the bruises on her face.

My lungs were burning, and I realized that as my thoughts had drifted to New York, I'd broken out in a sprint. I slowed my pace to a stop and bent over to steady myself, my hands sliding against my slippery skin as I gripped my sweaty thighs. I'd been in such a trance that I hadn't been paying enough attention to my surroundings. It'd gotten dark, and I knew it wasn't smart to be out in an area I didn't know well. Emmett probably wouldn't leave until I'd gotten home safe and sound anyway, so with a huff, I turned and started jogging back in the other direction.

I kept my pace slow. My heart rate had lowered back down by the time I got back to the house, only to pick right back up again when I saw a black BMW sitting in our driveway. It had to Bright Eyes' car, though I wondered why someone with such expensive wheels would rent a room from strangers.

I noticed the absence of Emmett's truck. I assumed he'd wait until I got home to leave, but perhaps my run had taken longer than I intended.

My senses were on high alert as I walked up to the house, almost feeling like an intruder. I reminded myself that we were on _my _turf. Well, sort of. Bright Eyes was the outsider coming in, and I couldn't let myself feel threatened by him just because I found him insanely attractive and was pretty sure he put off some sort of special pheromones designed to bring weak-minded women to their knees.

I wondered what it would feel like to be on my knees in front of that sexy, powerful form.

_Oh, God. _

I shuddered, reprimanding myself for my inappropriate thoughts. I was not weak-minded, and I wouldn't be getting on my knees for any man anytime soon, no matter how alluring I found them.

I went in through the garage door leading into the kitchen. I jumped a little when I found Bright Eyes right in front of me, sitting at the kitchen table. I'd expected him to be in his room, but he sat right in front of me, the whole room feeling a little more significant with his presence filling it.

"Oh, um, hi…" I stammered.

He looked up at me from his phone passively.

"Hello again, Bella," he answered, his voice dripping with that same sexy confidence I remembered hearing in it before.

"Is my brother here?" I asked, though I was pretty sure I knew the answer.

"No, you just missed him."

"Oh." I stood there, staring at him stupidly for a moment too long, not sure what to say. "Did you already move all of your stuff in?" I asked, realizing I hadn't seen any indication of someone moving outside.

He shrugged.

"I live very simply."

"Oh."

I stared at him for another few moments, but he broke the silent tension this time.

"What's your last name, Bella?"

I blinked at him, caught off guard.

"Um, why?"

He leaned back in his chair to reach into his pocket, and I took a step back, causing him to give me a strange look.

"I need to write your brother a check," he answered, speaking slowly as if conversing with a crazy person. "I don't know who to make it out to."

I sighed, willing myself to relax as I watched him place a checkbook on the table.

"Oh, right. Um, his last name is Swan."

"_His_ last name?"

I swallowed thickly.

"Our last name," I corrected.

I bit my lip as I turned my back to him, going to the refrigerator. Why did I feel so awkward around this stranger? I wasn't sure if it was because he was so entrancingly beautiful, because he was a stranger moving into our home, or both.

I swung the refrigerator door open and bent over to get a bottle of water.

"You should put some clothes on."

I froze.

Surely I hadn't heard him right. I stood up and looked back at him over my shoulder, shooting him a bewildered look.

"Excuse me?"

"You should put some clothes on," he repeated. "The first rule your brother gave me was not to stare at your ass, and that's proving to be difficult with you running around in your underwear."

I gaped at him with wide eyes, my mind stuck somewhere between disturbance and warm feelings at the knowledge he'd just admitted to staring at my ass.

"These aren't underwear," I answered, gesturing down to my black spandex running shorts. "They're shorts."

"Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow at me as he stood up, sucking some air through his teeth as he ripped the check from his checkbook and placed it down on the table. "Coulda fooled me."

My mouth fell open as I watched him leave the kitchen. He disappeared into his new room, and I didn't see him the rest of the night.

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"Shut the fuck up!" Angela squealed the next day, sitting across the bar from me with her head propped up on her hands. "He did _not _say that!"

"That was my very first thought, too, but he definitely said it." I put down the last one of the beer mugs we'd been drying. "The sad part is that while I felt slightly disturbed, I wasn't nearly as offended as I should've been."

"Why be offended?" she asked, laughing. "I say take it as a compliment!"

"I don't even know him, Angela. He's a total stranger, and I was completely into him checking out my ass and being so blunt about it. I found it sexy, for God's sake! I went to bed totally slut-shaming myself."

"Okay, you clearly need to get out more. That doesn't make you a slut at all, Bella. Besides, those tall, dark, and shady types are notorious panty-soakers."

"Yeah, well," I snorted. "Finding someone to soak my panties isn't exactly at the top of my priority list."

The door from the back swung open, and Sam walked out into the bar, scratching at his beard.

"All right. Ya'll are off the clock, so you're free," he informed us, literally shooing us away with his hands.

"Come on," Angela said as she hopped off her bar stool. "Grab our purses. We're not done talking about Tall, Dark, and Shady. We're going next door for coffee."


	4. House of Freaks

**A/N: So much love for the amazing team of people behind me on this one. My word-fairy MariahajilE, my personal comedian Layathomemom, my drill-sergeant Lamomo, and keeper of the heart; Serenshadow.**

**And to JiffyKate, I will forever swap words with you ladies like candy at Halloween.**

**I tweet at JennaRayFF and book faces at J Ray Fanfiction.**

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"You need to convince Tall, Dark, and Shady to come by the bar sometime, so I can get a mental picture," Angela commented, opening the door to The Brewhouse.

"I don't know. You might overdose on his sex appeal if you see him in person," I answered, laughing.

"Doubt that," she replied with a snort.

I blinked at her, confused.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing." She grinned wickedly, making me feel as if I were missing out on a good joke.

I shook my head as we approached the small line ahead of us, attributing her comment to her quirkiness.

"Here." I pulled a ten-dollar bill out of my pocket and passed it to her. "Get me a vanilla latte. I have to go to the bathroom."

I shuffled around the line, locking eyes with the same barista from last time. She smiled at me as she took someone's order, and I returned it with a little wave, turning around the corner of the counter toward the restroom.

When I returned, Angela had both our drinks, and we took a seat at one of the small tables in front of the window. She pushed my cup toward me as I slid into the seat across from her, but she didn't look at me. She was staring at something at the front of the shop.

"What did you get?" I asked as I picked up my drink, prompting her to finally glance over at me.

"Tea. I don't like coffee."

"Is their tea good here?"

I took a sip of my latte and hummed in appreciation of the silky warmth sliding down my throat.

"Not really."

I gave her a look as I put my cup down on the table.

"So… You don't like coffee, and their tea isn't any good. Why do you even come here?"

"I have my reasons," she responded cryptically.

Her eyes left mine again, shifting back towards the front of the shop. This time, I followed them in an effort to figure out what she was staring at. I looked, but nothing stuck out to me. The line had dissipated, and the only thing to watch appeared to be the barista making drinks. There didn't seem to be anything for Angela to stare at. Still, when I looked back at her, she still seemed completely captivated with _something_.

And then I realized…

"Wait. Are you looking at the barista?"

"Yes. Yes, I am," she answered with a dreamy sigh.

I gaped at her for a moment, totally caught off guard.

"Oh…"

"She's so fucking sexy."

I blinked at her, taking a moment to comprehend this information, before a big smile spread slowly across my lips.

"_Oh_…" I replied, my tone now laced with understanding. "You have the hots for her?"

"Are you kidding?" she asked, turning back to me again. "For her, I've got the hots and the colds and everythingin between."

I glanced over at the unsuspecting barista again. I'd noticed her stunning looks the first time I'd seen her, so I could totally see why Angela drooled over her. If I were into girls, she could be my type, too.

"Well, that's cool. I just had no idea that you, you know…"

"Like pussy?" she asked, making me laugh.

"Well, yeah."

For the next hour, I listened to Angela recount every aspect of her crush to me. I learned all about Lauren, a 21-year-old student at the University of Houston. Angela had gathered this information while taking her breaks at the coffee shop, though she admitted she'd never had the guts to make a move on the girl. She did say she picked up on heavy flirtatious vibes from her, but regardless, she felt that Lauren might be out of her league.

She was crazy, and I told her so. Lauren possessed a striking beauty, no doubt, but so did Angela. Lauren's appeal came across dark and exotic, while Angela's felt more pin-up girl and airy. They were very different but would make one gorgeous couple.

I decided then that if Lauren was at all interested in women, those two needed to hook up.

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The next morning, I woke to a text from Emmett informing me he'd spent the night at Rosalie's and he wouldn't be home until later. Although less than pleased they seemed to be on the road to reconciliation, I found my silver lining in the fact that, at least, they hadn't stayed at our house. Rosalie and Emmett playing footsie under our kitchen table while drinking their coffee didn't make the top of my list of preferred ways to start my morning.

A second text from Emmett told me Jasper would be coming by around ten and instructed me to give him a box in the kitchen containing miscellaneous stuff he'd left behind. By the time I read the text, it was nearly ten, so even though I could've gone back to sleep, I decided I should get up.

Jasper showed up as I made the coffee, popping right in through the door from the garage, as if he still lived there. I supposed he'd never really feel like a guest, anyway.

"Hey, Bella," he greeted me, glancing up from his phone.

Jasper's frame, slender and lanky, stood a stark opposite of my brother's. His curly blond hair and the dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks only served to make him appear even more boyish. Nearing thirty, he actually looked like he could be younger than me.

"What's up?" I asked, smiling at him as I took a coffee mug down from the cabinet.

"Just another day of wedding shit," he answered with a sigh. "I'm stopping by to pick up some stuff I left behind."

"Yeah. Emmett isn't here, but he texted me about it. I think that's it over there," I said, gesturing to a box that sat at the other end of the counter. "Do you want some coffee?"

"Nah. I wish I could," he responded as he went over to the box and started to pick through it, checking out its contents. "Alice is waiting in the car. We're on our way to a cake tasting."

"Oh. Well, tell her I said hi."

"I will." He seemed satisfied with what he found in the box as he pulled it toward him. "I met the new roommate."

That got my attention. I looked up and over at him, trying not to appear overly interested.

"Oh, really? Where?"

"Here, just now. He's outside, just in front of the garage."

"What's he doing out there?"

"Smoking."

I hadn't realized Bright Eyes smoked, and that made me think there were probably a lot of questions Emmett and I should've asked but didn't. Then again, I knew Emmett had spoken to him on the phone on his own. Maybe he just hadn't fully filled me in.

"Oh. So what'd you think?" I asked.

The coffeemaker beeped, signaling that my coffee had finished, and I went about filling my mug.

"He seems cool. Quiet, though. Then again, I guess that's a good quality when it comes to a roommate."

"That's what Emmett said. Exact words."

"Guess we got sick of each other's loud and crazy asses then," he laughed.

"Nah. Emmett misses you," I assured him.

"I'll still be around," he answered, winking at me.

I went to the refrigerator to get the creamer and then looked at Jasper as I slowly walked back to my coffee.

"Glad to hear it."

"Well, I gotta run," he said, picking his box up. "Oh, hey. How's the job at the bar going?"

Turning to face him directly, I smiled at his thoughtfulness.

"So far, so good," I responded. "I really like it there."

"Awesome. I had a feeling you'd like it there." He took a few steps backwards, toward the door. "Alice and I'll have to stop by some night when you're working."

"Yeah, for sure."

I watched him turn to open the door to the garage, jumping a little to see Bright Eyes standing on the other side. He didn't say anything. He just stood there, a patient look on his face, and the space around us filled with uncomfortable silence until Jasper cleared his throat.

"Guess we're both coming and going at the same time, huh?" he said with an awkward laugh, trying to cut the tension.

"Guess so," Bright Eyes answered flatly.

He stood there for a moment longer before walking into the kitchen, sidestepping around Jasper. Edward's tall and powerful frame dwarfed Jasper's, making me want to laugh, but I didn't. I couldn't. Bright Eyes' presence filled all the space around him with such fascinating command that I felt like I could only stare when he was around.

"Well, uh… See ya, Bella," Jasper said, offering me a small smile as he stepped out into the garage.

"Bye, Jasper."

He closed the door behind him, and the air immediately thickened. Bright Eyes and I were alone, and I remained, with alarm, aware of every fraction of space he occupied.

My heart rate accelerated as I watched him move slowly from one side of the kitchen to the other, never letting his eyes leave mine.

"I, um… I made some coffee." As if he couldn't see that for himself. "Would you like some?"

Those mystifying eyes were almost calculating in the way he looked at me, as he leaned against the door frame between the kitchen and living room, crossing one foot over the other in a casual pose that somehow still felt predatory at the same time.

"No, thank you."

It took me a moment to pull my eyes from his entrancing gaze to turn around and stir some creamer into my coffee.

"You're wearing the underwear again."

I froze, caught off guard for just a second before I remembered I'd put on my running shorts when I got out of bed, intending to go for a run after Jasper left.

I didn't even bother to look at him this time.

"They're not underwear," I huffed, proud of myself for maintaining my composure. I'd be damned if I let Bright Eyes know about the tingles it gave me to know he was looking at my ass. "They're shorts. I run in them. Do you have some sort of problem with that?"

He stayed quiet just long enough to drive me crazy.

"No. No problem."

"Good," I retorted.

Then I heard his footsteps coming toward me. Just before I could turn around, there he was, moving right up behind me, closer and closer, until he had me pressed into the counter in front of me. I froze, stunned and disturbingly turned on to feel him semi-hard and nestled against my ass.

I jumped a little, dropping my spoon so that it fell from my coffee cup and clattered against the countertop.

"I just don't think it's nice to tease people," he whispered hotly into my ear.

Feeling his breath against me made me tremble. His close proximity made me tense, but his hard-on against me made my whole body quake. My reaction to him shook me. I found myself feeling equally dismayed and mesmerized despite his completely inappropriate behavior.

I should have pushed him away, and part of me wanted to, but he smelled so good. His body radiated heat and desire that engulfed me, paralyzing me. He wanted me, clearly, and that thought sent a shiver down my spine.

"Maybe you shouldn't look then," I managed to squeak. "If it drives you so crazy."

"Perhaps." He lifted his hands to grip the edge of the countertop at my sides, caging me in. "Unfortunately, I find it impossible not to look at you. It's irritating."

I swallowed, feeling like I'd just been thrust into the Twilight Zone. This man didn't know me at all. We'd barely said a handful of words to each other, and he felt comfortable saying things like this to me? Who did he think he was?

"That sounds like a personal problem," I answered, out of breath.

"How old are you, Bella?"

His hips moved just slightly against my ass, and I closed my eyes, fighting to keep my mind clear enough to understand him as he spoke.

"I'm 23."

"Well," he answered, sounding pleased. "At least there's that."

"What are you talking about?"

"I want to fuck you, and there are already too many things standing in my way," he answered, his tone packing an authoritative bite. "I'm glad to know that your age, at least, isn't a problem."

I squeezed my eyes tighter, fighting a vicious internal battle against the immediate arousal that crashed over me. I'd never been this girl. I'd always been the girl who blended in, the girl who flew under the radar. Beautiful men didn't speak to me this way, and it took conscious effort not to melt in his arms and tell him to do whatever he'd like with me.

"Yeah," I retorted, my shaky voice betraying the impassive façade I'd hoped to pull off. "Because it's my age you have to worry about. Don't take into account my consent or anything…"

His deep answering laugh taunted me.

"There are things standing in my way of having you, but I'm fairly certain your consent won't be one of them."

"Says who? I didn't ask you to come over here and rub your cock against me," I seethed, irritated.

"No, but you're enjoying it, aren't you, kid?"

"You're arrogant."

"I'm confident," he snapped back. "Now let me give you a piece of advice." His lips brushed against my ear as he moved against me again, now heavy and thick against my ass. "There may be reasons I shouldn't pursue this inexplicable pull I feel to you, but I have a bad habit of feeling compelled to take things I'm told I can't have." I literally gasped, starting to fall apart. "So consider this a warning, Bella Swan," he continued, moving one hand to hook a finger into the hem of my shorts. "If you don't want me to take you, I suggest you don't wear these again."

He pulled at my shorts and flicked his finger so they popped back against my ass, making me jump. His finger had barely skimmed the back of my thigh, but it was the first time he'd touched me in any capacity. It ignited a burn within me that consumed me and left me breathless.

"Let me go," I ordered, feeling like I would surely combust if I didn't put some distance between us at once.

"Trust me. That's exactly what I'm going to do."

He stepped away from me, and I hesitated a moment, trying to ground myself. By the time I did turn around, I caught a glimpse of him as he turned the corner out of the room.

I ran five miles that morning, faster than I knew I could.

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When I got home from my run, Edward appeared to be stowed away in his room, which connected to mine by the bathroom we now shared. As I showered, I remained painfully aware of him just on the other side of the wall from where I scrubbed at my naked body. He'd touched me once, and now I felt like he'd been seared onto my skin. He'd infected me, and it burned me from the inside out.

The thought of facing him so soon after our rendezvous in the kitchen was too much to take, so I hurried out of the house before I could encounter him again. I ended up getting to work early, so I decided to stop into The Brewhouse to call and check in with my dad before I went in.

I noticed Lauren right away, but she wasn't behind the counter this time. She sat at one of the tables, sipping on a red beverage, looming over a book. I normally wouldn't have interrupted her, but she wasn't working. I considered it a good opportunity to dig for info I may be able to pass along to Angela.

"Hey," I said as I approached her table, provoking her to look up at me.

"Hi," she answered, a warm smiled spreading across her incredibly pink, plump lips.

"Mind if I sit with you?"

"Not at all. Be my guest," she answered, gesturing to the seat across from her.

"Thanks," I said as I plopped down into the chair, pulling my bag over into my lap. "I just have a few minutes to kill before I go into work," I explained.

"Are you working next door?" she asked. "I saw you in here with that bartender from over there."

I smiled widely. She'd given me a perfect opener.

"Yeah, I do work there. You saw me in here with Angela. She's been training me. She's awesome."

She stirred her straw around in her drink, pensively.

"Yeah, she's cool. She comes in here a lot."

She glanced down at her book.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your reading."

"Oh, no. It's fine… I'm really not that into this book anyway," she shrugged.

"What book is it?"

She lifted it up so that I could see the cover, revealing a green witch I recognized from one of my favorite movies as a kid.

"It's _Wicked_," she said as she placed it back down. "You know, like the musical?"

"Oh, yeah, cool." I nodded. "You don't like it?"

"It's okay; it's just not my usual reading style. I'm only reading it because I have a friend who's going to be in the production in New York."

"Oh, wow. That's awesome."

"Yeah, I thought I'd check it out, but maybe I'll just wait to see the musical."

I remained quiet for a moment, trying to be wise about what I said next. I needed to think of a lead-in to find out more about this girl.

"I'm Bella, by the way," I said as I extended my hand to her, realizing I hadn't introduced myself to her yet. "You'll probably be seeing me quite a bit, because I'm working right next door, I'm a coffee addict, and I just moved in practically down the street."

"Lauren," she answered as she shook my hand. "And I'll be more than happy to service your coffee-addict needs."

The way she smiled at me and the length of time she held my hand in hers made me wonder if she might be trying to flirt with me. I could definitely see how Angela had picked up on that sort of vibe from her. I'd always been inept at flirting with anyone at all, male or female, and the only way I seemed to know if someone showed interest in me was if they shoved their erection against me, the way Bright Eyes had.

"Thanks," I said, pulling my hand from hers.

"So, where'd you move from?"

"California."

"How do you like Texas? Have you made friends?"

"Not really, but my brother lives here. I live with him, actually, so at least I know someone."

"Well, that's enough, baby doll. You need some girlfriends."

I smiled at her, inspired.

"Well, Angela and I have hit it off pretty well. I'd like to think that she and I could be friends. Maybe…" She closed her book, leaning a little more toward me. "Maybe you'd like to go out with us sometime? I don't know anything about nightlife in Houston. It'd be cool if you guys could show me around sometime."

I wondered what had gotten into me. I wasn't this outgoing person, and I certainly wasn't one to want to check out the local nightlife.

But here, I could be. I could be anything here. Nobody knew me, other than Emmett.

I attributed my newfound sociability to the fact I was on a mission. I didn't truthfully care much about clubbing, but it seemed like a good way to get Angela and Lauren together.

"That'd be cool."

She picked up a pen off the table and reached out to pull my hand toward her. She glanced up at me, smiling, and then turned my hand over to slowly write seven digits down on the back of it. The motion of the pen on my skin tickled, making me shiver.

"Text me," she said, clicking the pen and dropping it back onto the table. "I'll take you wherever you wanna go."

"I will."

She stood up, picking up her book and slipping into her bag before slinging it over her shoulder.

"I've gotta get back to work." She picked up her cup and started to walk away, throwing one last inviting smile at me over her shoulder. "See ya, Bella."

I dug my phone out of my purse and saved her number into the address book. Seeing that I'd used up most of my extra time, I decided to send my dad a text instead of calling.

_I think Houston's going to be good for me. I'll call you soon. Love you._

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Angela arrived to work late, which sucked, because I was buzzing with anticipation to tell her both about scoring Lauren's number and about Bright Eyes getting touchy feely with me in the kitchen. She came around the bar as I continued rolling silverware. I barely gave her enough time to stow her bag away before I shoved my hand in her face.

"Look what I got," I grinned.

She looked at my hand and then up at me blankly.

"Whose phone number is that?"

"Lauren's."

Her eyes lit up.

"No shit? You asked her for her number?" she asked, opening up a drawer to snatch an apron.

"I did, and I came across very suave about it, if I may say so myself. I pulled the 'I'm new in town and don't know anyone' card. It seemed to be very effective. I suggested that the three of us go out sometime, you know, because I need people to show me around town."

She finished tying her apron around her waist and held her hand up for a high five.

"Hell, yeah!" she laughed as I obliged. "You're awesome, Bella. Best wingwoman ever. And she wrote it on your hand?" she continued dreamily. "That's so sexy."

"It is?" I asked, clueless.

"Yes."

"We have to make plans soon."

She came over to me, taking half my stack of napkins to help me with the silverware.

"We can all go out to some club or something, and I can have some convenient emergency at home. Then you two will be left alone, forced to get to know each other better."

"_Or,_" she argued, nudging me with her hip. "You could bring Tall, Dark, and Shady."

"Yeah, right," I scoffed. "Because _that_ wouldn't be the most awkward thing ever."

"It wouldn't be, if you just took the initiative to get to know him."

"I think we already got to know each other a little too much this morning…"

"Ooh, what happened this morning?" she asked with excitement.

I told her everything and laughed at the thought she was quickly becoming my human diary for everything relating to Bright Eyes. Lucky for me, she remained more than willing to let me vent. In fact, she ate it up, and she just about hit the floor when I finished.

"So," I concluded. "I left early for work. I guess I'm too much of a coward to face him."

"Why?" she whined. "Bella, this is some kind of shit out of a movie. You need to pounce on him."

"Angela, he's my roommate."

"So what? That just makes him more convenient."

"What exactly are you suggesting I do?"

"Fuck him! Duh!"

"I can't just sleep with him, Angela," I said as I tossed another roll of silverware into the basket.

"Why the hell not?"

"Like I said, he's my roommate."

"So? I'm not telling you to marry the guy. Haven't you ever had casual sex before?"

"Not with a complete stranger," I answered, laughing at the absurdity of the conversation.

"You've never had a one-night stand?"

"No. My sexual experiences are limited to my high school boyfriend turned friend with benefits."

She put the silverware she'd been holding down on the counter with a thud, turning to face me directly with an incredulous look on her face.

"Are you shitting me? You've only had sex with one person?"

"Yes." My cheeks heated under the intensity of her stare.

"Oh, my God. You are_ so_ going to do him. I'm going to make you."

"Angela, no," I responded, shaking my head. "I'm not that kind of girl."

"And what kind of girl is that?" she asked with a huff. "Bella, having sex with him isn't going to turn you into a slut."

"I know that; I'm just… I'm not–"

"Bella, you just moved to a new state and started a new job. You have a fresh start, a new life. What better time is there to do something crazy and totally out of your comfort zone? You admitted you're turned on by him."

"That doesn't mean I have to bang him."

She sighed as she turned back to the silverware.

"Bella, I could see how wound up you were the first time I saw you," she said with a solemn tone. "Sometimes, a little bit of calculated risk is healthy."

I brushed her off with a scoff, but I considered her words a lot more than I let on.

She turned to me and opened her mouth to add something else, but the front door opened, ringing the bell at the top, before she could get it out. The man glanced at us and nodded politely before going to take the last seat at the opposite end of the bar.

"I'll get it," I offered, pushing the last few pieces of silverware toward her.

"This conversation isn't over," she said to me over her shoulder as I walked by.

I simply laughed, rolling my eyes at her as I made my way to the other end of the bar.

"Hey, how's it going?" I asked the man as I slid a cocktail napkin in front of him.

He looked up at me, his eyes lingering on my face a moment longer than natural before he spoke.

"No complaints." He looked at me with a searching gaze that made the room feel hot. "Are you new here?" he asked. "I come here almost every day, and I don't think I've seen you before."

I relaxed immediately, so much so that I exhaled audibly. His seeking stare had a reason. My new face made him curious because he didn't know me, and everything about that eased me.

"Yeah," I answered, nodding. "I just started here."

"Well, nice to meet you." He extended a tanned, toned arm to offer his hand to me. "I'm Jake."

I placed my hand in his, warm and strong as he shook mine.

"Bella," I answered, and his grey eyes seemed to twinkle a little.

"Well, Bella," he began as he released my hand. "You'll be seeing a lot of me around here."

I took my turn to survey Jake's face. I knew his type. The lines on his face and the dusting of grey hair at his temples made him appear around forty, and middle-aged men who hung out at bars every day were not foreign to me.

"I guess I better learn what you drink then."

He grinned widely. Jake had a great smile. Twice my age or not, I found him very attractive.

"Crown on the rocks."

"Coming right up."

I turned around to pull the bottle and glass, taken aback when I turned back to find him still staring at me. Most people would toy with their phone or look at the menu while I fixed their drink, but this guy watched my every move. It had me a bit on edge.

"This obviously isn't your first job bartending," he commented, I guess because I worked quickly.

"Nope. It's not," I answered as I placed his drink on his napkin.

"Where are you from?"

I looked up at him. He'd asked an innocent question, typical bar conversation, but I wasn't looking to get into a conversation about where I came from with this stranger.

"Around," I answered. "Enjoy the drink. I'll be back in a sec to check on you."

His eyes just narrowed, thoughtfully, as I smiled at him.

"Thanks, Bella," he said to my back as I turned to walk back over to Angela.

She'd abandoned the silverware, even though she'd nearly finished, and had instead taken out her phone and started texting.

"Well, I just met my first regular," I commented as I approached.

She glanced up from her phone, craning her neck a bit to look around me.

"Who? That guy?" she asked, sounding confused.

"Yeah," I answered as I went back to the silverware.

"Huh."

"What?" I asked, glancing up at her.

"I don't recognize him."

I froze.

"What? He said he comes here almost every day."

"Hmm. Well, I haven't been working my usual shift this week," she shrugged. "I've probably just been missing him." I swallowed. "Besides, I'm notoriously terrible with faces and names and all that."

I tried to let her words calm me. I tried to attribute my uneasiness to paranoia. But when I looked back down the bar over at Jake, his gaze remained fixed on me.

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I arrived home to find Emmett and Bright Eyes in the living room, with Emmett babbling animatedly about cars. Some car show played on the TV in front of them. They didn't even seem to notice me, not when I slammed the door behind me or when I went to sit in the chair across from Bright Eyes. Just looking at him made me blush as my mind flooded at once with thoughts of…

"I almost bought one," Edward responded, answering something Emmett said I hadn't paid any attention to. "I've never really been a fan of Beemers, actually, but I fell in love with the 7 Series, so I went with that instead."

"A solid choice," Emmett answered, nodding. "I always say you can't go wrong with German engineering. That's why I bought my sister a Jetta."

"Volkswagen makes good cars," Bright Eyes replied approvingly. "I think it's one of your top choices for a mid-grade."

I couldn't resist.

"BMWs are expensive. Especially yours." I sounded much more accusatory than I intended, but I went with it. "Why does someone with such an expensive car want to rent a room from a couple of strangers?"

"Bella," Emmett admonished, shocked and bothered that I would ask such a thing.

I didn't look at Emmett. My gaze remained fixed on Bright Eyes, who didn't look offended at all. No. He looked amused.

"It's all right," he assured my brother. "To answer your question, Bella, I could very much afford to live on my own or buy a house. But I'm in a bit of a… Well, I'm in a transitional period, I guess you could say. I needed a place quickly without too much commitment. Your brother is letting me lease month to month." He paused, with a challenging smirk at me. "Is that a satisfactory explanation?"

I ground my teeth at his patronizing tone.

"Excuse my weird little sister's intrusive questions," Emmett apologized, giving me a pointed look.

"It was just a question," I answered, defensive.

Emmett sighed, shaking his head as he glanced down at his watch.

"Shit. I've gotta go get ready for work," he said, shooting up from the couch.

I watched him leave the room, and then Bright Eyes and I were left alone. His gaze remained fixed on me silently for a moment longer before he leaned back to reach into his pocket and produced a pack of cigarettes.

"Do you smoke, Bella?"

His tone had changed. When speaking to my brother, Edward spoke like a man casually shooting the shit with a friend. When speaking to me, Edward spoke with this unidentifiable edge to his voice.

"No."

"Good," he answered as he stood, his long and sinuous fingers working to pluck a cigarette out of the pack. "It's a terrible habit." His tongue wet his bottom lips as he held my gaze. "Though, I can't say I wouldn't like to see those pretty pink lips wrapped around something… and sucking."

My cheeks heated up rapidly as Bright Eyes turned, walked into the kitchen, and headed toward the backdoor as if he hadn't just said something inappropriate to me for the second time that day.

"Hey! Bella!" Emmett yelled from somewhere down the hall. "You're a girl! Let me get your opinion on something!"

I cleared my throat as I shifted in my chair, not wanting Emmett to see me drooling shamefully over Bright Eyes.

"What's up?" I called back just a moment before he entered the room.

"Which one do you prefer?"

I looked up at him, horrified to find him standing before me, holding up a leopard print man-thong in one hand and a hot pink one in the other.

"Oh, my God, Emmett!" I shrieked as I looked down again, hiding my face in my hands. "What the fuck…"

I didn't live in a home. I lived in a freak show, in a room right between the world's sexiest man and the man born with no boundaries.


	5. Puzzle Pieces

**A/N: All my love, thanks, and smother-in-my-bosom hugs go to my word-fairy MariahajilE, my personal source of comedic relief – Layathomemom, and the chocolate syrup on my sundae – LaMomo, and Serenshadow.**

**And always, my spirit animal, JiffyKate. **

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Angela and I had the lunch shift again the next day, the same shift we'd been working all week. Stepping out of my room after I'd showered and dressed, a mouthwatering scent coming from the kitchen immediately enveloped me. While my brother loved to cook, he rarely produced anything that could be considered edible. This aroma couldn't be Emmett's work. I hadn't smelled food so enticing since the last time his mom cooked for me.

I turned the corner into the kitchen only to stop in my tracks. Sitting at the table, my brother devoured the remnants of something that looked like some sort of sandwich. And standing at the stove, Bright Eyes tended to something sizzling away in a skillet. Could it be possible he was responsible for the delicious smell?

"Bwlka," Emmett grumbled, incapable of pronouncing my name with a full mouth.

Bright Eyes looked over, and I redirected my gaze to my brother before my eyes could lock with his.

"Hey, Emmett," I answered, watching him swallow such a big mouthful. It looked painful.

"Bella," he repeated now that he could speak properly. "We are _never _letting Edward leave. He's _never _moving out."

"Great," I retorted before I could stop myself.

"He's the best roommate ever, Bella. He can cook. I mean, he can _cook."_

It seemed that Bright Eyes had discovered the key to my brother's heart: food.

"I see that," I replied. "What's that you're eating, anyway?"

"A slice of heaven."

"It's Italian sausage with peppers and onions," Edward answered, his back still turned to me. "Your brother decided to put his on bread and slather it with spicy mustard."

"And it's fucking _delicious_," Emmett moaned before sinking his teeth in for another bite.

Not wanting to watch my brother have an orgasm over his food, I stepped away. I went over to the stove, peering around Edward to get a look into the pan. He stirred a medley of sizzling sausages and vegetables that made my stomach growl.

"Oh, wow. That does smell good…"

"Would you like to try my sausage, Bella?"

My eyes widened as they shifted up to look at him.

"No," I snapped. "No, I don't want any of your sausage."

He smirked, making me think his innuendo was not at all accidental.

"Bella, you have to," Emmett chimed in from the table. "Try his sausage. You'll love it."

My head whipped around to look at him, horrified at his words. He smiled up at me innocently, unaware of the subtext of what he'd just said to me. For someone who worked in the adult entertainment industry, he sure could be oblivious sometimes.

"I'm sure you'd be very pleased with my sausage, Bella," Edward muttered from beside me.

My kitchen had become a war zone of foodgasms and sexual innuendos, and I wanted no part of it.

"I… I need to get ready for work," I said quickly, darting out of the room.

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A little later, I was leaning over the sink as I applied my makeup when the door from Edward's room swung open, startling me. I jumped and dropped my compact of pressed powder into the sink, where it cracked, the powder breaking apart into chunks.

"Shit…" I cursed under my breath.

"Oh, sorry," he mumbled.

I made a mental note to always lock the door to his room if I were naked. Sharing a bathroom would take some getting used to for us both.

"It's okay," I assured him, picking up the pieces from the sink and tossing them into the trash. "Did you need in here? I'm almost finished."

"No. I just need to grab something."

I stepped aside as he reached around me to open the medicine cabinet to take out his deodorant. We didn't touch, but with him so close to me, my nerve endings were on high alert.

"Sorry you have to share a bathroom with me, by the way," I commented, trying to lighten the space between us that always felt so heavy.

"It's fine."

I found it bothersome Bright Eyes always seemed to be so curt with me. He had no problem socializing with my brother, but with me, it always came down to short answers and averted gazes. As much as he'd made it clear he wanted me sexually, he had a distinct way of making me feel like he wanted nothing to do with me sometimes.

"I'll be out of your way in just a minute," I continued. "I'm about to leave for work."

"You're not in my way." I watched as he turned to unzip a bag he had slung over his shoulder, slipping the deodorant inside. "I'm about to leave, as well."

My gaze shifted from the duffel bag up to his stunning eyes.

"Did we scare you off already?" I joked.

He leveled a blank stare at me for a moment.

"Excuse me?"

My cheeks flushed.

"Um… No, I'm kidding. It's just… I saw the bag."

I gestured to his bag, and he glanced down at it before looking back up at me.

"It's my gym bag. I'm going to go find a gym to join."

"You don't have one already?"

With such a sculpted body, I knew he must've been working out somewhere. Those muscles couldn't have formed without hard and persistent work.

"Not around here, no."

"Oh, so you moved from somewhere not around here?"

"Correct."

"Where are you from, then?"

His eyes narrowed as they searched mine.

"You ask a lot of questions."

"Well, I mean, we're roommates. I'm just trying to get to know you."

He looked at me contemplatively for a moment.

"Well, don't."

.

.

.

.

Jake showed up at the bar again. Still feeling weary of the vibes I'd felt with him the day before, I passed him off to Angela. I watched them with curiosity, hoping to gain some further insight on the guy. I knew my standoffish feelings toward him were probably just paranoia, but my instincts told me something might be off about him.

That thought made me roll my eyes at myself. I knew I had trust issues, but I had no business deflecting those issues onto my customers.

I decided the next time Jake came in that I would tend to him with a smile on my face.

He ordered the same drink from Angela he'd ordered from me. As she prepared it, Lauren walked in.

I, for one, wasn't surprised to see her. After a short conversation via text message, we'd established the next time we were both working, and I'd invited her to stop in to make plans with me and Angela. Angela, on the other hand, was clearly taken aback to see her. A nervous smile touched her lips as she placed Jake's drink in front of him; she couldn't seem to stop glancing over at us as Lauren approached me.

"Hey, babydoll," she said cheerfully as she sauntered up to the bar.

"Do you call everyone that?" I asked as I turned to face her directly, watching her slide up onto a barstool as I squeezed a lemon into the water in front of me.

"Nope, just you," she grinned.

Her green eyes shimmered as she pulled her long, dark hair over one shoulder.

"Why?"

I tossed my lemon peel into the trash as I took a sip of my citrusy water.

"You have gorgeous skin," she answered quickly. "Like a porcelain baby doll." I felt myself blush. "See? You even have a beautiful blush."

"I‒"

I'm not sure what I would've said. I never had the chance to finish, because Angela came up beside me then, nudging me with her hip as she leaned over the bar.

"Hey, Lauren," she drawled dreamily, all doe-eyed and pouty-lipped.

"Hey, Angela." The space around us charged with electricity that made me fidget with nerves. "It's nice in here."

"It is," Angela agreed. "You should come in more often."

"Or maybe you two should come out," she quipped without missing a beat.

"Which is exactly why I told you to come by today," I responded. "Angela and I are working the lunch shift this Saturday, but if you're not busy, maybe we can all hit the town after?"

Lauren looked back and forth between me and Angela, smirking.

"And where exactly do you ladies want to go?"

"Somewhere with strong drinks and sexy music," Angela answered.

"I think I can swing that," Lauren replied, twirling a strand of dark hair around her finger.

"Good. We're yours all night." Angela bit at her bottom lip, and I rolled my eyes. She couldn't have been more obvious about her attraction. "Just let us know what time."

"I'll text you," Lauren promised as she slid off the stool. "Now that we've all made plans, I should get back to work."

"We'll see you Saturday, then," Angela answered, sounding a little breathless.

"You sure will."

Lauren's eyes shifted from Angela to me and then back to Angela as she turned around. She waved at us with a flick of her fingers, offering us a coy smile over her shoulder as she turned to walk away. Angela gaped at her while I picked up my glass of water to take a sip.

"Christ, I wanna bury my face between her thighs and–" She didn't finish her sentence ‒ thank God ‒ because me choking on my water distracted her. "Are you okay?"

I put my glass down with a resounding thud on the bar as I coughed to clear my airway.

"I'll live," I choked out through my sputtering. "But please, give a girl a warning before you go painting that type of mental picture."

"But it's one hell of a mental picture, right?" she grinned.

I didn't bother answering. I turned around to grab a napkin to clean up the water I'd spilled on the bar, and I couldn't help but laugh when I got a full view of everything she was serving up in her denim cut-offs.

"Angela, do you realize I can literally see your ass cheeks hanging out of your shorts with you bent over the bar like that?"

"Um, duh," she laughed, wiggling her ass playfully. "Why do you think I cut them so short?"

"Please, don't tell me that's part of your ploy to get Lauren in bed," I answered, wiping up the small puddle of water.

"No. That'd be stupid." She straightened as she turned to face me. "Females take a little more… finesse. You can't seduce a woman with body parts like some man."

"Okay." I reached around her to toss my soggy napkin into the trash. "So what's the point, then?"

"Tips, of course," she grinned. "I make twice as many tips when I show off my assets."

"Right." I rolled my eyes. "To each their own, I guess."

"You should try it."

"I don't think so."

"You can be a bit of a prude sometimes, you know that?" When I didn't answer, she continued. "Speaking of your prudish ways, please tell me you're bringing Tall, Dark, and Shady out with us."

"What?" I asked, looking at her incredulously.

"Edward. You're bringing him Saturday, right?"

"No."

"What? Why not?"

I sighed.

"Angela, he told me just this morning to not try to get to know him. Why would he want to go out with us?"

"Are you forgetting that he also told you he wanted to fuck you? That's as blunt as it gets. So the real question is, my dear Bella, why would he _not _want to go out with us?"

"Just…" I found myself fidgeting, because talking about Bright Eyes created a tightness in my chest that made me uncomfortable. "It's just not a good idea, okay?"

"Bella, it's obvious he turns you on. You want him. You're just too afraid to go for it." She gave me a sad look that made me feel like a wounded puppy. "Look, I'm just gonna say this once more, and then I'll leave you alone about it." I looked at her with expectation. "You have a fresh start here, Bella. You're wound up, babe. Let go a little bit. Do something crazy you never would've done in your old life. Live a little."

I waved my hand at her dismissively, shaking my head.

"That's not me, Angela," I insisted.

"Why not?" she pouted. "You're young, you're hot, and you have no ties anywhere. Be crazy. Be wild. Do something out of your comfort zone. I promise you won't believe how liberating it feels."

She patted my shoulder before she turned and strolled through the metal door into the kitchen. I chewed on my lip and watched her, mulling over her advice. She had no idea of the truth of her statement; no idea how long and how tightly I'd been wound up.

Maybe a new me was just what I needed to go with my new start.

Jake caught my attention, waving me down from the other end of the bar. I folded my arms over my chest as I walked down to him, trying to muster the friendliest smile I could.

"Hey, Jake," I greeted, leaning forward onto the bar between us. "How's it going?"

"No complaints today. Can I get another drink?"

"Sure."

I snatched up a new glass and turned to the backside of the bar, reaching for the bottle of Crown Angela had left out.

"Is this gonna be your usual shift?" he asked from behind me.

"Um, yeah," I responded as I filled the glass with ice. "I think so. Angela's with me this week since I'm technically still training, but I think she'll probably go back to mid-shift and nights next week." Brown liquor splashed over the ice as I spoke. "That'll suck, though, because I'll be doing lunch shifts alone. It's been nice having Angela around to talk to."

"I'll be around," he answered as I replaced the top of the bottle. "You know, someone to talk to, at least."

I smiled, turned back around, and placed the fresh drink in front of him.

"Well, cheers to that," I quipped, pulling his empty glass toward me.

"So, how's Houston stacking up to California so far?"

My stomach dropped.

My grip on the glass tightened. My eyes darted up to meet his, and my heart rate spiking up. I hadn't told Jake where I was from. I knew I hadn't, because I'd cut off our last conversation on purpose when he'd asked me.

"Whoa. What's wrong, kid?" he asked as I took a step back. "You look like you've just seen a ghost or somethin'."

"I didn't tell you I'm from California," I snapped, not even caring about how accusatory I sounded.

"No…" he answered slowly. "You didn't. Angela did."

That felt like a jab to the gut. My whole body slumped as I exhaled, blushing with embarrassment. I probably looked like a lunatic to this guy.

"Oh, God…" I mumbled, slapping my head against my forehead. "I'm… I'm so sorry, Jake."

"No worries, kid. I didn't mean to come across like a stalker. I asked Angela where you came from, since you were so coy about it the other day. I was just curious…"

"Right. Sure," I ran my hand through my hair, shaking my head at my own ridiculousness. "That makes perfect sense. I'm just… I'm, like, socially inept. Forgive me."

"No harm, no foul," he shrugged before taking a swig of his drink. "Maybe I look like an old guy trying to hit on an unsuspecting young girl anyway, huh? No wonder you're freaked out."

"No." I bit at my lip as I went to lean against the bar again, resuming my earlier position. "No, not at all. I'm the weird one here." He laughed, and I found that he had a really charming chuckle. "Can we just start this whole conversation over?"

"All right," he obliged with a nod. "What would you like to talk about?"

"Tell me about yourself," I suggested. "I mean, if you're gonna be my only company around here during the lunch shift, we might as well get to know each other."

So he did. He told me all about himself. I learned that Jake, an investment banker born and raised in Houston, had an ex-wife and two children around my age who never called him. His lack of companionship proved evident, because _man_, that guy could talk. We both got something out of the otherwise meaningless conversation, though. Jake got what I suspected he sought by hanging out at bars in afternoons, someone's ear to talk off, and I gained the understanding that he was harmless.

Lonely, but harmless.

.

.

.

.

Angela's earlier advice still rang loud and clear in my mind when I got home that evening. I knew I had just enough time for a run before it got dark out, so I moved quickly to change clothes. I sat in the living room, tying the laces of my running shoes, when Bright Eyes came sauntering through the front door.

I looked up at him and found his mesmerizing eyes already locked on me.

He'd changed clothes from when I'd seen him that morning. He now wore a hunter green t-shirt that brought out the green in his vibrant blue-green eyes. It clung tightly to his body, drawing my attention to his muscles. His lower half boasted black athletic shorts. As my eyes traveled down his alluring physique, I swallowed at the sight of muscular calves dusted with black hair.

I quickly averted my gaze, going back to the task of tying my shoes, determined not to let Bright Eyes in on the fantasies in which he played a starring role.

"Long workout," I commented.

"I had things to take care of before the gym."

I looked back up at him after securing the bows on my shoes.

"So, you found a gym then?"

"Yes."

"Good."

I stood up, and just as I knew they would, his eyes immediately dropped down to my hips as he looked at my running shorts.

"I thought I warned you about the underwear."

His tone was threatening, but I refused to be intimidated by him.

"For the last time, they're not underwear. And either way, I don't have to heed any warnings from you."

He swung his bag down onto the couch as he straightened his posture, challenging me.

"No, but you chose to wear them again. I can now only assume you're pining for me to pursue you. Is that what you want, Bella?"

His sultry yet authoritative tone felt like a punch to the gut, but my resolve remained strong.

"My wardrobe choice is none of your concern, Edward."

An arrogant smirk touched his lips as he strode towards me purposefully. Caught off guard, I took a step back, but with the chair right behind me, I had nowhere to go. The backs of my knees hit the edge of the recliner, and I fell right on my ass. In an instant, Bright Eyes loomed over me, his hands planted firmly on the arm rests at my sides. My stomach dropped.

"We've established that seeing your ass in those shorts, as you argue they are, makes me hard. You've worn them again, and now I'm thinking of all the ways I can make you come."

I stared right back into his eyes with determination. I would _not_ break.

"You're awfully fixated on sex, you know that?" I asked, my shaky voice betraying me.

He ignored me.

"Tell me, Bella. Do you think of me now when you put those little shorts on? Does it turn you on to know I'll be looking at your ass and thinking about bending you over?"

I smirked up at him, hoping it rivaled his. He'd given me a perfect opportunity to stand up to him, to give him a run for his money. My fingers trembled as I wrestled with the arousal I felt at his words, but other than that, I didn't falter.

"No." I fought to keep my tone even, not wanting to give Bright Eyes the gratification of knowing how hard the butterflies he gave me flapped away in my stomach. "I don't." I pushed him out of my way to stand up and walk toward the front door, gathering my courage. "I only think of you when I take them off."

I grinned, picturing Angela high-fiving me.

The grin was short-lived. Two bounding footsteps behind me were the only warning I had before Bright Eyes appeared at my side, stopping me by capturing my wrist in a tight grip.

"Don't tease me, Bella. I won't warn you again."

I turned my head to look over at him. Those bright eyes seemed a whole lot darker. I was getting the impression this guy might have a temper.

"If you really don't want to pursue me, then stop telling me how badly you want to fuck me," I snapped.

"Or what?" he challenged.

I pulled my wrist free from his grasp.

"Or I might let you."

It took all of my resolve to walk out the front door without looking back at his expression. As I bounded off to start my run, I decided Angela had been right.

New state, new house, new job, new friends… new Bella.

And I liked her.

.

.

.

.

On Saturday night, I met up with Angela at her place. I followed her directions to a tall building of condominiums right in the heart of downtown.

She opened the door to greet me with a wide smile, but that smile quickly faded.

"What?" I asked, confused by her disappointed expression.

"Um… You brought clothes to change into, right?" she asked me as I stepped inside.

Her scrutinizing gaze surveyed me up and down as she pushed the door closed, making me blush.

"No. What's wrong with my outfit?"

I wore black skinny jeans and a simple purple top; it was nothing special, but I'd figured it would do.

"Bella, that's an outfit you wear out to dinner. That's not an outfit you wear out to the club."

She had sweatpants on, so I couldn't compare my outfit to hers.

"Well, excuse me for not knowing ideal club attire," I answered as I slipped off my wedges. "I don't exactly have a ton of experience in that scene."

"It's not even just your outfit; it's your whole look. I mean, your hair's in a ponytail, and you barely put on any extra makeup." Her eyes darted into the kitchen as she looked at the clock. "Fortunately, we still have time before we have to leave to meet Lauren."

"Your place is really nice."

"Thanks," she answered as she reached for my hand. "No time for a tour, though. We've gotta get you fixed up."

"What?" She held my hand tightly as she pulled me through the living room and down the hall. "Angela, I told you, I didn't bring any other clothes."

"You can wear something of mine."

We ended up in a bathroom, where she pulled a stool up to the counter and pushed me down onto it. At the same time, she pulled out a curling iron and got to work, yanking my ponytail free and tossing my hair tie onto the floor.

"I liked my ponytail," I pouted.

"A ponytail's not sexy. Long, voluminous, flowing curls are sexy."

"Why do I need to be sexy?"

"Because if you're gonna be too much of a pussy to bang Tall, Dark, and Shady, then maybe we can find a guy at the club to butter your muffin."

"I don't need my muffin buttered."

"Bella, trust me," she argued as she began pulling a brush through my hair. "You _need _your muffin buttered."

For the next hour, Angela worked on me like an old, broken-down car. Once she'd started curling my hair, she turned me away from the mirror so I couldn't see myself. She said she wanted the revelation of my new look to be a surprise, which made me wonder if I'd really been doing that bad of a job dressing myself on my own.

After she'd finished with my hair and nearly suffocated me with hairspray, I tried to remain patient while she painted my face. That's literally what it felt like. She called it 'contouring.' I bit my tongue about the fact my skin would surely break out, because I planned to do some serious exfoliating when I got home.

She didn't allow me to look in a mirror until she'd made me try on four different outfits. She picked one out she seemed to like on me. When she did let me look, of course, she had to be all dramatic about it. We stood facing each other until she spun me around toward her full-length mirror.

I didn't expect it, but her work astounded me. I almost didn't recognize myself. My hair cascaded down around my shoulders in curls, framing a face that had been transformed with only makeup. I looked so different, albeit sexier than I ever imagined I could.

I wasn't sure about the dress, though.

She'd put me in a white dress that barely covered me to mid-thigh. That wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been for the fact it tightly hugged every one of my curves. In fact, it looked maybe a size too small, which made me wonder if Angela actually wore this thing, because she was probably a size bigger than me.

"I look like a hooker in this dress," I deadpanned.

"No, you look like a sex kitten."

She reached around me, and before I could register what she was doing, she had her hands inside my bra.

"Angela!" I shrieked. "What are you doing?"

"Relax, prude," she answered, sighing as she pulled my boobs up and mashed them into my chest with undeniable pain. "I'm just adjusting you. I'd give you one of my push-up bras if we were the same cup size."

"My boobs are fine," I insisted, swatting her hands away. "Jesus…"

The dress already had a plunging neckline. Her assault on my breasts only made them even more exposed, which made my cheeks flush.

"All right. Now, last thing." I watched her walk around me to a bookshelf, where she pulled down some sort of wooden box. "Give me that necklace. I'll pick out another one for you. A cross really isn't the best thing to wear out clubbing…"

"What? No," I snapped, instinctively reaching up to grasp the pendant of my necklace. "I'm not taking it off. Sorry."

She turned back to look at me with a wide, astounded gaze. I didn't mean to sound so defensive, but I couldn't help it. I couldn't take that necklace off.

"What's the deal? Are you super religious or something? I mean, it's cool if you are. I just didn't get those vibes from you."

I sighed, letting go of my necklace as my arms fell back at my sides.

"No, I'm not," I answered, shaking my head. "I'm sorry. I just… It's my mom's necklace. It _was_. She's dead, and this is one of the few things I have of hers."

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry," she replied, giving me that same sympathetic look I always got when people found out I had a dead parent. "I had no idea."

"It's okay. It's just that I never take this off."

"Do you mind if I ask what happened to her?"

I took a deep breath.

"She was murdered."

"Oh, wow. That's… I'm so sorry, Bella."

I closed my eyes for just a brief moment, pushing it all back to the recesses of my mind as I'd gotten so good at doing.

"It's okay. It happened a really long time ago."

"Well… Hey, the necklace is beautiful. You should leave it on for sure. I was just being stupid."

"Hey, it's okay." I laughed a little in an effort to lighten the mood. "Things don't have to be weird just because I told you my mom's dead."

"Right. Well, on a lighter note…" She paused as she came back to stand behind me once more. "You seriously have no idea how hot you look." She shook her head at me in the mirror. "It's a shame, really."

I breathed in, relieved to let go of the awkwardness that conversation inevitably caused.

"I don't know, Angela. I just feel so…" I paused as I shifted my weight awkwardly, tugging on the hem of the dress to try to cover a little more leg. "Exposed."

"So what? You've got the kind of body people wanna see, babe."

"Well, maybe I don't wanna show it."

She sighed, and I could see the disappointment on her face.

"Fine. If you like your jeans better, go put them back on. I'm just trying to help you out."

But then I had a moment. I remembered the triumphant feeling I had when I teased Bright Eyes in the living room days earlier. I remembered how good it felt to feel sexy for once. I remembered how good it felt to do something out of my comfort zone for a change, even if it'd only been a little taste.

I thought of how long I'd been holding myself back, afraid to _live_.

"No," I declared. "You're right. I'm going with this whole 'new Bella' thing. New me, new outfit. Showing a little skin for one night won't kill me."

Her face lit up, and for the first time in a long time, mine did too.

"Yes!" she cheered, throwing a fist into the air. "That's what I'm talking about!"


	6. Boiling Point

**A/N: MariahajilE and Layathomemom are team me, and I love them dearly for all their help. LaMomo and Serenshadow are in on this one too, with a little JiffyKate sprinkles on top. Yup. It takes a village to keep me sane. **

**So let's do some talking. Some people (Shout out to Jan, heyy girl I see you) have expressed concern that this Edward is a sexual predator. Sigh. Let me make it clear that this is not the case and as you will read in this chapter, Bella is very much a willing "victim" of his advances. **

**So with that being said, let's turn up the heat a little bit, shall we?**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

When it came to clubbing, I apparently hadn't been doing it right. Lauren took us all over downtown. We bounced around from one swanky club to the next, taking shots with strangers and having a ball. The whole thing felt so far removed from any semblance of a social life I'd experienced in California but in a good way. That remained the whole point in my resolve for a fresh start. Determined to make the most of my new life, I threw myself into the spirit of the night.

We ended up at a pop-techno club with a jam-packed dance floor. I'd squeezed my way up to the bar for some water and a moment to catch my breath, but I didn't get much of a chance to do so before Lauren popped up beside me.

"Whatcha' drinkin', babydoll?"

I downed the rest of the water in my little plastic cup before setting it down on the bar.

"Water."

"Water? Boring." I watched her flag down the bartender, who proved to be all too eager to give her his attention. "Two shots of that Goose!" she yelled to him.

I laughed. She had a few more drinks in her than I did, and it showed.

"More shots? Don't let me get sloppy, now," I teased.

I had a nice little buzz going, and I didn't want to take it much further than that.

"I won't. Don't worry," she answered, winking at me.

"Where's Angela?"

"She went to the bathroom."

In just moments, two shot glasses of clear liquid sat before us.

"Okay, this is my last shot," I vowed, picking mine up.

"Deal." Lauren picked up her glass and held it out to me, flashing me a bright smile through her hot pink lipstick. "Cheers!"

We clinked our glasses together before throwing them back; I grimaced as the vodka burned its way down my throat.

After that, everything happened so fast, I couldn't comprehend it. My attention trained on my shot glass, I reached out to place it on the bar, and before I could blink, Lauren's hands were on my face and her lips were on mine.

She kissed me, and before I could even register that fact, I had my hands on her shoulders to push her away.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her gaze full of confusion and disappointment that took me by complete surprise. "I thought… It seemed like you've been flirting me with all week."

Shit. Clearly, she'd misconstrued my efforts to be a good wingwoman for Angela.

"I–"

"Oh, wow."

I turned my head, horrified to find Angela standing next to us, watching with wide eyes. Panic welled inside of me. For days, I'd listened to her go on and on about her crush on this girl, and now she'd walked up to find us kissing. My luck couldn't get any worse.

"Angela," I began, hearing the desperation in my voice. "Please don't be mad at me. It's not what you think… She just kissed me. I didn't. I mean, I wasn't expect–"

"Bella, shut up," she interrupted, her stare fixed on Lauren.

"What's going on here?" I felt bad for Lauren, who seemed baffled. "Bella, why are you apologizing?"

"Angela, please don't be mad at me," I repeated.

Finally, she looked at me, but I didn't see in her eyes the anger I'd anticipated.

"I'm not mad at you."

"You're not?" I asked, relieved.

"I am so confused," Lauren interjected, looking back and forth between us as if she were watching a good tennis match.

"Bella, come on," Angela began loudly over the music. "I haven't known you very long, but I know you well enough to know you didn't intend for that to happen."

"Thank you," I breathed, relieved.

"Besides, it's my fault, anyway."

"How's it _your_ fault?" I asked.

"Because," she turned back to face Lauren with a wide grin. "I should've done this a long time ago."

And then she stepped toward Lauren, taking her face between her hands, and attacked her in a searing kiss. Lauren pulled back a little at first, surprised, but it didn't take long before she got into it. And then they were chest to chest and hands in hair, full on making out, not a foot in front of me.

This caught the bartender's eye as he stopped to watch with a big, goofy grin on his face.

"Hey!" I yelled at him to get his attention. "I'm gonna need another one of those shots."

He nodded and hesitantly walked away, leaving me to stare at the lesbian pretzel forming before my very eyes.

They parted sooner than I thought they would, but neither seemed to even notice me. Angela dragged Lauren back out to the dance floor, where they began twisting themselves together again to the beat of a sultry Rihanna song with their hands all over each other.

As I watched them, I felt proud of Angela. She'd finally gone after what she'd wanted, letting her inhibitions go. She didn't just give good advice; she lived it. And watching her with Lauren, I couldn't help but think of Bright Eyes.

"Here's your shot."

I turned back toward the bar as the bartender placed the glass in front of me. I took it as soon as I'd paid him, though the burn didn't feel so harsh after the one I'd just taken.

I was ready to go. I wanted to stay on the more responsible side of the line between tipsy and drunk, and besides, my mission had been accomplished. The whole point in organizing a night of clubbing had been to get Angela and Lauren together. We may have taken an unexpected path to get there, but as I watched them bumping and grinding together on the dance floor, I had the resounding feeling that my work was done.

They both saw me coming toward them, but they didn't stop dancing. They just looked over at me, both grinning.

"Sorry about the confusion," Lauren apologized with a giggle.

Angela laughed with her, and I found their flippant attitudes about the whole thing a little strange. Angela genuinely didn't care that Lauren had been kissing me minutes earlier, and Lauren seemed able to redirect her efforts in pursuit of someone else like flipping a switch. I wondered if lesbians handled these things differently, but either way, I remained grateful we hadn't ended up in some twisted love triangle. I felt like I'd dodged a bullet with both of their reactions, and that made me more eager to get out of there and leave them to it.

"No worries at all," I assured her with a smile. "I'm gonna jet out of here, though."

"Already?" Angela whined.

"'Already?'" I laughed. "We've been out for hours. My feet hurt. I'm going home. I'll see you tomorrow."

We said our goodbyes, and I made my way to the back of the club to find the stairs we'd come up when we came in. I turned the corner and paused for a moment before descending, taken back at what awaited at the bottom. A herd of people was smashed together in the space between the last step and the small doorway. It didn't take me long to register the reason. Outside, sometime since we'd arrived at the club, a torrential downpour of rain had erupted. Apparently, most of these people wanted to stay dry more than they wanted to leave. I made my way down the stairs as several people pushed by me on their way back up. I wasn't fond of getting wet, but I wanted to get home.

"Where you goin', sugar?" some drunken guy slurred as I slipped by him. "A cute little thing like you can't go out in that rain alone."

"I'll survive," I mumbled, pushing through the last line of people in my way.

I popped out on the other side of the crowd, a gust of wind hitting me straight in the face. Water misted me the closer I got to the door, craning my neck to see outside, and I was relieved to find a handful of taxis sitting at the curb, waiting to scoop up customers as they spilled out of the club.

I locked eyes on the closest one and made a run for it, though I didn't cover much ground very fast in the stilettos Angela had put me in. I'd never been averse to heels, but I felt comfortable at about two inches. These were easily three, if not more, with a much tinier heel than I'd been accustomed. I considered taking them off, but God knows what I may have stepped on in the streets of downtown Houston.

"You all right?" the cab driver asked as soon as I slid into the back seat. "You look like a baby deer trying to run in those things."

"I'm fine," I answered, only realizing I was out of breath when I spoke. "I just didn't want to fall."

"So, where ya headed?" he asked, turning his head around to look at me over the seat.

I glanced up at him, opening my mouth to answer, but stopped when I noticed his eyes weren't on my face. They were on my chest.

I looked down, aghast to find that the rain had soaked through my dress, and cursed Angela for having put me in white. Crossing my arms over my chest as I grimaced at him, I spouted off my address.

"Looks like the power is out over here," the driver commented as we pulled into the neighborhood.

"Really?" I asked, sliding closer to the window to survey the darkened houses.

"Yeah. See? Even the streetlights are out."

The streets and homes were eerily dark.

Still, as the cab pulled up to the house, I felt a twinge of satisfaction to see Bright Eyes_'_ BMW in the driveway and Emmett's truck nowhere in sight. The two of us would be alone in the house – in the middle of an apparent power outage, at that. The thought of it sent a thrill through me, and again, my mind wandered to the inspiration of Angela going for it with Lauren.

Maybe it should be my night to go for it, too.

I paid the driver and slipped out of the cab, but I didn't run to get inside this time. I'd already been soaked, and after drinking and dancing all night, the cool rain invigorated my flushed skin.

I walked into a house shrouded in total darkness. I pulled my phone out before tossing my clutch on the couch, using it as a source of light to guide my way as I meandered through the living room, following a shuffling sound that came from somewhere down the hall.

"Hello?" I called out as I turned into the hall. "Edward?"

"In here."

The voice came from his bedroom, just past mine. My heels clicked against the hardwood floor loud enough that I knew he'd hear me approaching.

I turned into his doorway and stopped. I no longer needed my phone to see. He had the curtains in his room pulled open, allowing the moonlight to shine straight in. I could see him well, standing at his desk and shuffling through papers with his back to me.

"How long has the power been out?" I asked.

"About twenty minutes," he answered as he turned around to face me. "I wa–" He stopped when he laid eyes on me. "Jesus Christ…"

Goosebumps broke out all over my skin at the tone of his voice, hoarse and helpless. His expression hardened as he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth. My body buzzed under his watchful gaze.

I imagined how I looked to him; I was soaking wet, my dress was plastered to my skin, and my hardened nipples were poking through. His eyes were hungry as they raked over my body, drinking me in, but I didn't shy away. I owned it. His smoldering gaze spurred my confidence and made me want to listen to the voice in the back of my mind. The voice of New Bella yelled at me to give in and go after what I wanted the way Angela had gone after Lauren. That voice recited to me Angela's advice from the day before.

_You have a fresh start._

_Let go._

_Live a little._

I took a step forward, reaching up to pull the strap of my dress down off my shoulder and pull my arm out.

_Be crazy. Be wild._

I did the same thing with the other strap, and Bright Eyes took a deep breath.

_Do something out of your comfort zone. I promise you won't believe how liberating it feels._

"If you don't want me to fuck you, now would be the time to walk away."

My stomach clenched at his words, and my heart thudded in my chest. The weight of his statement rested heavily on me, because the truth remained that I _did _want him to fuck me. I wanted him in ways I couldn't even imagine.

New Bella screamed at me to do something, anything, to tell him I wanted him. I wanted him to know that the fire and lust in his eyes burned inside of me, too. I wanted him to know about the ache I felt for him and the pull I felt to him.

So, with a deep breath, I cast my inhibitions aside.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Two steps forward, and he consumed me. I barely had a moment to gasp before one of his strong arms looped around my waist, pulling me against him at the same time his other hand took hold of the back of my head. He tilted his head one way, and he pulled mine the other, sealing his mouth over mine. He kissed me, and it turned my whole world upside down.

The softness of his lips proved a mesmerizing distraction from the aggression in his kiss, from the commanding way in which those lips moved against mine. Even the way he held me felt imposing but in such a natural way that it unnerved me. It remained clear who had the upper hand, and I surrendered that position willingly. I would follow wherever his body led me.

I sighed just as his tongue dipped inside, moving against mine to taste me. Everything about his kiss emanated confidence, experience, and a tantalizing twist of desperation. I loved that he kissed me like he had no other option, like he'd surrendered all power to resist. I felt sexy, powerful even, despite his obvious proclivity for control.

He groaned deeply, the single most sensuous sound I'd ever heard, and that was it.

I vaguely recognized the thud of my phone hitting the floor before flinging my arms around his neck and shoving my hands into his hair. My body vibrated with sensory overload. The only touch we'd shared before this had been the very tips of his fingers against my leg. Now, he was all over me.

I tugged hard on the strands of hair grasped between my fingers, and he growled into my mouth. It was a wild, erotic sound that made my breath hitch. The noises this man made spurred me into a desperate frenzy of lust, and my core ached to imagine what other sounds I may be capable of pulling from him.

His hand left the back of my head to move down my body, stopping along the way to appreciate every dip and curve, until it cupped my ass. The other hand joined a moment later, and he lifted me off my feet. He did so with little effort, making it a fluid motion for me to wrap my legs around his waist.

"You should've walked away when you had the chance, Bella."

I answered him by directing his mouth back to mine, his head turned up this time. I registered that we were moving ‒ distantly, that is ‒ until my back slammed into the wall behind me. A hanging picture frame several feet to my left fell from the wall and clashed to the floor with the sound of shattering glass, but even that didn't stop us. Nothing could stop us now.

He pulled his mouth from mine and loosened his grip on my ass, letting me slide down the wall. We both panted heavily, chest to chest, and I vaguely wondered if he could feel my heart pounding.

Sandwiched between his body and the wall, I felt every long, hard inch of him as I slid downward. I moaned, unwinding my legs from his waist to stand, though I had no confidence whatsoever that they would support me.

He slid his hands languidly from around my ass to grasp my hips, and I gasped in surprise when he forcefully turned me around to face the wall. A fleeting thought crossed my mind that I'd never been handled this way before. In that moment, any prior experience I'd had felt juvenile. I'd been with boys before, but Bright Eyes touched me like a man.

I wasn't exactly sure what he wanted me to do, but it didn't take him long to show me. His hands, hot and rough, took mine and pressed them hard against the wall in front of me. This forced me to bend over somewhat, and with my legs feeling like Jell-O after the way he'd just kissed me, I considered that maybe the stilettos were a disaster waiting to happen. I went to step out of them, but his hands grabbed at my hips, stopping me.

"Leave them on."

I blushed, too embarrassed to tell him I didn't know how long I'd be able to stand in them if he continued turning me to mush.

All worries over footwear disappeared the moment he began pushing the hem of my dress up and over the curve of my ass. I started panting harder then, my chest heaving. I knew where this was going, and my chest tightened at the thought of him seeing me naked for the first time this way. I was bent over, ready, and waiting for him.

Once he'd shoved my dress up around my waist, his hands moved right back down, this time pulling at my panties. He pulled them over the swell of my cheeks, down around the tops of my thighs, and I gasped when the air hit my exposed flesh, making me uncomfortably aware of how wet I'd become.

He dropped my panties so they fell around my ankles and held my hips to steady me as I stepped out of them. My gaze fixed downward, his foot caught my attention as he kicked them aside, casting aside my dignity with them. I stood before him now, bare and exposed.

He pulled his hands from my hips, and I became anxious when nothing happened for a few moments. I hated to think he may have just been standing there, staring at me. I felt at least marginally better when I heard something hit the floor and looked over to find his t-shirt discarded beside me. The thought that Bright Eyes stood just behind me, shirtless, had me biting my lip. I wanted to turn around and look at him, but I didn't have much chance to even think about it before his fingertips were at the backs of my thighs, dragging upward at a slow, languid pace I felt sure was meant to torture me.

I stood there, panting, biting at my lip hard to prevent myself from moaning. Once his fingertips had made it up my thighs, he planted one hand on my ass while the other dipped between my legs to explore my aching, hot center, feeling just how wet he'd made me.

"Jesus, Bella," he hissed as I whimpered. "So wet and soft…"

I stepped apart another inch or two, spreading for him without shame. My eyes screwed shut as his fingers caressed me. I was surprised by the gentleness with which he touched me, so different from the clueless probing of my friend with benefits back in California. Still, his stroke remained firm and confident as he slipped a single digit inside of me.

"You're tight," he commented frankly as he pulled out and in. "How long's it been for you?"

"Wh-what?" I panted, almost incoherent at this point.

"How long has it been since you were last fucked?"

I whimpered as he pulled his finger from me again.

"Um…"

"Well?" he prompted, an impatient edge to his tone. "You're not a virgin, are you?"

He pushed back in with two fingers this time, and I let a loud moan slip past my lips, unable to stop myself.

"No."

"Good. I don't have the patience for that."

He pulled his fingers from me altogether, and I clenched in protest. I'd never been so turned on and desperate in my life. All I could think of was feeling Edward inside of me, the need for release. I felt sure I would combust if he didn't put some part of his body back inside of me right away, and I considered telling him when the sound of a zipper cut through the silence. I looked down again just in time to see his jeans and boxers both drop down around his feet, and I whimpered with delight at the sight. He stepped out of them, toward me, and fire burned through me in anticipation.

I sighed with relief when he made contact again, and it morphed into a loud moan when I realized that it wasn't his fingers stroking through my folds but the head of his erection.

"Is this what you want, Bella?" he teased, though I noticed his breathlessness.

"Yes…" I panted. "Please…"

His hand flattened against my lower back, bending me over further, and that was the single warning I got before he began to penetrate me.

I gasped as he groaned. He'd pushed into me just a little, but his girth still stretched me. He had such a perfect angle, I wondered if our height difference might've been the reason he'd told me to keep the heels on.

"Fuck…" he moaned, the sound of it making me clench desperately around him as he gave me another inch.

"Please," I begged.

He obliged. With one smooth thrust, he filled me. He filled me and stretched me so full that I cried out hoarsely, my whole body jostling forward with the force of it. He was _big_… bigger than I'd expected.

I barely had time to steady myself before he began thrusting. Taking my hips in a firm, authoritative hold, he drove into me. Tears pricked at my eyes with the intensity of it. Balls deep and hard as steel, he filled me like I'd never been filled before. He moved with such confidence and skill, with such purpose, as if he were staking ownership on me.

I'd never imagined I'd get off on having sex in such a submissive position, but the way Bright Eyes took me made me feel possessed in a way that had me ready and willing to give myself over to him. My mind, my body, and my emotions were consumed with him alone.

I tightened around him at the thought, and he grunted in response. It was a low, primitive sound that drove me right to the edge of orgasm.

"Yeah?" he panted, and I knew he must've felt my core squeezing at him desperately.

His hand smoothed up my back to reach into my hair, fisting it in his grasp. He pulled, yanking my head back, and I lost it. I writhed as an orgasm ripped through me, my body tensing violently. A load groan emanated from him, but he continued to thrust into me with relentless abandon, spurring my climax to roll on as my sex convulsed around him.

"Do you always come that fast?" he asked, taunting me. "Or just for me?"

Aftershocks of ecstasy continued to roll through me. My limbs were pleasantly numb, and by this point, I felt unabashed. If he wanted to own me, so be it. I'd serve him up a deed to my body on a platter.

"You…" I whimpered. "Just you…"

"Good."

I hadn't realized he'd slowed his thrusts to ease me down from Nirvana until he picked them back up again. Tightening his hold, he gave it to me, nailing into me with each fierce drive of his hips. Euphoria ripped through me again, and I rippled around him once more, threatening to explode again too soon. I felt too sensitive, hyperaware of every inch of him that filled me. I could barely breathe, and with that thought, my body slumped forward. I would've fallen right on my face if Bright Eyes hadn't caught me by my hips and yanked me back up.

"Stand up," he ordered, his tone husky and harsh.

"Edward…" I whimpered, my fingers tensing against the wall in front of me.

"This is what you wanted, right? You wanted me to fuck you."

"Yes…" I cried out as he began to slam into me harder.

"So take it."

His words managed to turn me on even more, making deep muscles I'd never used before spasm at the onslaught of his body ravaging mine. Beads of sweat rolled down the backs of my legs, and I cursed the power outage for costing us the air conditioner.

He pushed me beyond the hurdle of sensitivity into a new level of ecstasy, and a new pleasure began to blossom in my core. With raw grunts and groans that made me tremble, Bright Eyes plunged into me hard and fast, with thrusts that began to grow erratic while his fingers dug into my hip. His firm hold on my hair made my scalp tingle in a way that wouldn't let me forget who remained in control here.

With a wild grunt, he slammed his hips into my ass one last time. His fingers dug painfully into my flesh as he came with a feral moan so erotic that it catapulted me into a second orgasm, rippling around him as I felt him spasm inside of me.

He didn't linger. I was still panting and tingling when he pulled out of me, and my legs ached when I moved to stand up straight, letting my hands fall away from the wall. I turned around to lean back against the wall for support, catching my breath.

Before me stood my first glimpse of Bright Eyes naked, and he was breathtaking. He'd turned away from me, showcasing his strong, sinuous back muscles and a firm, taut ass. The moonlight made him appear almost luminous. I felt I couldn't fully appreciate the view, however, because he appeared to be upset.

"Fuck…" he groaned, rubbing his hands over his face, which he'd turned up toward the ceiling.

At first, I almost felt offended. But then I recalled the craziness of the situation. We barely knew each other. Actually, we _didn't _know each other at all. As I replayed in my head everything that'd just happened, I came to realize there were multiple reasons he might be upset.

"I'm on birth control," I told him, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

"I know."

He looked down, his hands falling from his face, and I watched him snatch up his boxers and pull them back on in a hurry.

"How do you know that?" I asked, yanking the hem of my dress back down.

"We share a bathroom. I saw your prescription by the sink."

"Oh."

I felt a blush spread across my cheeks and over my chest. It may have been the alcohol I'd consumed or the sheer fact that I'd wanted him so badly, but for some reason, letting go of my inhibitions in the moment had been easy. What I hadn't considered was how uncomfortable things would get afterwards.

I watched him gather his discarded clothes, and I pushed my arms back through the straps of my dress. My feet and legs ached, and I stepped out of my heels as he turned back to me.

"Don't." I froze. "Don't take those off."

"Wh–"

"There's glass," he explained.

I'd almost forgotten about the picture frame that had fallen. I couldn't see the glass on the ground in the dark.

"Oh, right…" I shoved my foot back into the heel, pushing myself away from the wall while I picked up my panties. "I'll, um, go get a broom."

I clutched my panties in my hand, stumbling my way into the kitchen, where I fumbled around to get them back on. I wanted desperately to get into the shower to clean myself up, but I knew I needed to clean up the mess in the hall before Emmett got home.

I'd hoped Bright Eyes would help, but when I returned to the hall with the broom, he'd retreated into his room and closed the door.

He'd left me to clean up the mess by myself and wonder if I'd made a big mistake.


	7. The Girl With a Face

**A/N: I bow down with thanks to MariahajilE, Layathomemom, and Lamomo (psst – go vote for them at the multifandom fanfic awards!) as well as Serenshadow for all their hard work and valuable time spent to make this story happen. And as usual, always and forever, both yummy parts of JiffyKate!**

**Ahh, morning afters. **

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"Nice of you to finally give your old man a call."

I rolled over onto my stomach, smiling at the familiarity of my father's deep and gruff voice. I hadn't realized how much I missed him until I heard it. After seeing him almost every day for the last nine years of my life, it seemed I'd forgotten to appreciate the privilege somewhere along the way.

"Sorry, Dad. I meant to call you sooner. I've just been busy."

A call to my father provided me with a good reason to procrastinate leaving my room. I was too much of a coward to face Bright Eyes for the proverbial morning-after awkward run-in. I knew I'd have to at some point, but a little bit of old fashioned delaying-the-inevitable felt like a good idea.

"Well, how's everything going? How's your first week out there been?"

I paused a moment, biting my lip as I considered how I could answer that question.

_Oh, you know, just a normal week… I got kissed by a lesbian. Oh, and I fucked my new roommate._

"Fine," I answered instead, grinning. "I've just been finishing unpacking and settling in at work. Nothing special."

"That's it? That's all I get?" he scoffed.

So I gave him a detailed rundown of my week, of course leaving out all the events of the previous night.

"I get along well with Angela," I finished as I wrapped up telling him about my job. "I'm lucky there's someone at work I can be friends with."

"I guess," he huffed. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm glad you're making friends. I'm just not so thrilled about you working in another bar. Trouble happens in bars, Bella."

"I know, Dad. I've heard this speech before." When he didn't answer, I continued. "The owner of the bar is super chill. That's why I applied there. I didn't have to give my I.D. or anything."

Again, he remained silent for a long moment. I pursed my lips, knowing what he would say before he said it.

"Bella, it's been almost ten years," he sighed.

"I know how long it's been," I retorted. "Trust me."

With the sound of his heavy exhale, I could vividly picture the saddened expression on his face.

"Honey, I understand where you're coming from, but there's no harm in giving an employer your I.D."

"Can we not get into this?"

"I'm just saying that I'd like to see you find a job that you can make a career out of. All that stuff is confidential, Bella."

"Dad…"

"And it's been so lo–"

"Dad, stop," I snapped. "You just don't get it, okay? You weren't there to see the look on his face when he promised me he'd find me." I sat up, bile rising in my throat just at the thought. "Do you not remember what he's capable of?"

I heard the regret in his sigh.

"Of course I remember. I'll never forget."

"He's not going to hurt anyone else to get to me. I'm not going to let that happen. I'm not ever going to take that chance."

"I understand."

"I get that you're just trying to look out for me, but this is my life," I explained. "If I want to live it a certain kind of way, doing a certain kind of job, I just… I just need you to respect that."

"You're right," he agreed. "I'm sorry. I just worry about you. That's all."

I took a deep breath to steady myself.

"Can we not talk about this anymore?"

"How's your brother?" he asked, changing the subject.

I spent the rest of the conversation filling him in on Emmett's situation with Rosalie, though he ended up not having long to talk.

"I gotta go, kid." I could hear someone talking in the background. I presumed it was one of his contractors at the construction company he owned. "I'll give you a call later on, all right?"

"Okay, Dad. I'll talk to you later."

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"I miss you. I miss having you around."

My heart warmed at his words. It seemed strange that there'd been a time when I didn't know him.

"I miss you too, Dad."

We disconnected, and I sat for a moment in the silence that followed. I didn't allow myself to linger on thoughts of the demons that had been brought up in our conversation. I couldn't. I might be unwilling to take any chances that would compromise my anonymity, but I remained painfully aware of the fine line between that and harping on my past, which was just as dangerous.

I didn't have much of a chance to dwell on it, anyway. My stomach growled, and my resolve to not leave my room crumbled.

.

.

.

.

I spotted Bright Eyes through the kitchen window as I poured a cup of coffee at the counter. He paced back and forth across the deck in the backyard, shoving his hands through his hair as he puffed on a cigarette. My heart sped up just looking at him. I wouldn't have imagined that my reaction to him could get any more intense, but it did. Something had changed, because I knew him now. I knew the way his hair felt between my fingertips. I knew the way his muscles felt under my hands and the way his lips felt against mine.

When I looked at him, I realized I couldn't ignore him. We lived together. I would see him every day, and if we didn't speak about what'd happened the night before, things would get even more awkward than they had to be. So, channeling some confidence from the new version of myself I aspired to be, I went outside to face him.

He looked over at me as soon as I pulled the sliding door open.

"Hey," I greeted, forcing a smile onto my face as I stepped out onto the deck. "Good morning." He answered only by tipping his chin up to me in a nod while inhaling from his cigarette. "Can we talk?"

He stared at me for a moment, exhaling smoke before he responded.

"Sure."

I walked by him to sit on the wooden steps that led down to the yard, pleased when he followed. He sat down beside me, elbows on his knees, and took another pull from the cigarette. His close proximity made me jittery.

"You shouldn't smoke," I pointed out, as if I had nothing better to say. "You said yourself it's a terrible habit."

His vibrant eyes shifted over to me as I watched him exhale.

"I did say that," he agreed. "But ironically, it may be the one thing keeping me alive."

"And how does that logic work?"

He stayed quiet for a while, looking like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to answer me or not.

"My mother was addicted to prescription drugs, and my father was addicted to anything and everything bad for him. That makes me a prime candidate for addiction, which I am. An addict, I mean. I have an addictive personality."

"And therefore you've convinced yourself cigarettes are good for you?"

"You didn't let me finish. My drug of choice is cocaine."

A dreaded sigh escaped me. I knew all too well about cocaine. _He_ had a problem with cocaine.

"You're addicted to cocaine?"

It hit me as a startling reminder that I didn't know this man at all.

"I'll always be an addict, but that doesn't mean I use. Coke is one hell of a drug. She's a jealous, vindictive, debasing bitch. I've seen her ruin the lives of people I loved very much, of people I would die for."

"Oh."

"I drink so I won't use, and I smoke so I won't drink so much."

I stared at him without shame, mouth open and all. He'd never said this much to me before and certainly not about something other than fucking me.

"So?"

"What?" I breathed, dazed by the first tidbit of information I had about him.

"You asked if we could talk."

"Oh. Right. I, um… I wanted to talk about last night."

He took another drag from his cigarette as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I assumed as much."

"I just don't want things to be awkward."

He looked over at me, exhaling smoke between us.

"I meant what I said, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"What I said last night." His gaze moved from my lips to meet my eyes. "You should've walked away when you had the chance."

I swallowed, fighting to keep my breaths steady.

"I could walk away now."

His expression seemed curiously regretful while he shook his head.

"No," he declared. "It's too late for that."

I narrowed my eyes at him, determined not to be the one to break our stare.

"Do you say things like that to intimidate me?"

"I'm just trying to be clear."

His jaw tensed as he took another drag.

"I don't feel threatened by you, you know."

He blew his smoke into my face, watching me with intent.

"You should."

"Why?"

He looked away, and I smirked, feeling victorious for winning the stare down. With a heavy sigh, he pushed a hand through his hair before rubbing it over his face.

"I don't know what it is about you."

"What do you mean?"

He looked back over at me again, but I saw something softer in his expression this time, something yielding.

"I've been with a lot of women, Bella."

My stomach rolled. I didn't want to think of that. On some irrational level, I wanted him to be all mine. Even more desperately, and more disturbingly, I wanted to be his.

"What does that have to do with me?"

He shot me a thoughtful look as his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip − a lip I wanted to nibble on.

"I have a…" He paused for a beat. "I have a propensity to use women the same way one uses drugs."

A sickening feeling crept its way up into my chest. What kind of man had I gotten mixed up with? The more he spoke, as much as I soaked it up like a sponge, the more reckless I felt for getting involved with him.

"Meaning?"

"I use them. I use women − sex − for a high. I see a woman I want, I take her, and then I discard her like a spent joint."

I wanted to throw up.

"Is that what last night was?" I bit out.

"That's what I'm getting at. I've always seen women that way, as a means to an end. After a certain amount of time, they've become faceless to me, just bodies."

"I don't think I want to hear any more of this," I balked, standing up.

"Stop," he commanded, wrapping his hand around my wrist in a firm grasp.

"Let go of me," I demanded, trying to yank my arm free of him.

"You have a face, Bella."

I froze, and he released his hold on me. My gaze darted to his eyes, trying to grasp what he'd said.

"What?"

"That's the difference. For years, I've pilfered through a sea of faceless women. Then I come here, I see you, and you have a face." He took a deep pull from his cigarette, exhaling with a heavy sigh that made his whole body slump. "And I don't even know what the fuck to do with that."

The sickening feeling spreading through my gut dissipated only to be replaced with elation, with butterflies. Because what girl wouldn't like to hear what he'd just said to me? My heart fluttered as I stared at him, trying to keep my cool.

"Seems to me like you did something with that last night."

"Last night…" He shook his head, averting his gaze. "Last night, I justified that by convincing myself that if I took you, if I had you just once, I'd get you out of my system." He put his cigarette out on a rock that rested between our feet. "I hoped I'd be able to fuck you once and be done with you, like I've done with the women in my past. I hoped you'd become faceless, like them."

"And did it work?"

He turned to me once more, and I was taken back by the intensity blazing in his bright eyes.

"No," he muttered. "It didn't."

A thrill raced through me. In that moment, I felt powerful. Not only had I refused to be intimidated by him, but I now faced the riveting revelation that Bright Eyes just might be intimated by _me_.

"Is that why you said I should've walked away?"

Hands now free of his cigarette, he leaned back with his palms flattened against the deck behind us, giving me a contemplative look.

"There are several reasons, Bella. But you didn't. And now it's too late."

"Too late for what?" I asked, looking over my shoulder at him.

"Too late for me to leave you alone. Not only did I not get you out of my system last night, as I'd hoped, but quite the opposite happened. I can't stop thinking about your sweet little whimpers and the softness of your skin." I felt my breathing becoming heavier. "I want you, Bella. Fucking you only sparked this pressing desire in me to take you in every way possible."

"Oh."

I didn't know what to say. This whole conversation had taken such a different turn from what I'd expected, and my heart pounded so fast in my chest that my mind couldn't keep up.

"You're not very experienced, are you?" he asked, an amused smirk pulling at his lips.

I swallowed.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because every time I bring up fucking you, you blush like I've just said the dirtiest thing you've ever heard."

"You talk very bluntly about sex. It's a little…" I paused as I searched for the right word, and he tipped his head toward me, waiting. "Imposing."

"You didn't answer my question."

I sighed, pulling my hair around over one shoulder as I turned my head away from him to face forward.

"No," I responded. "No, I'm not very experienced."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees again, as he looked over at me.

"Are you sore?"

It didn't take me long to register what he meant, and a renewed blush heated my skin, recalling the dull ache between my legs when I woke.

"Yes."

"I figured."

"Well, that's boastful of you, don't you think?"

"No. It has nothing to do with me." I felt his gaze on me, but I kept mine fixed ahead. "You're tight and already small to begin with." I swallowed. "And I wasn't exactly…" He paused while I fidgeted. "Gentle."

My stomach turned as I recalled the way he'd stretched me.

"See what I mean? Imposing."

But somehow, it was also a daunting turn-on.

He didn't respond. Instead, he remained quiet, and for several minutes, we sat there side by side and stared straight off into the distance. I mulled over our conversation, the intensity of everything he'd just said, and ended up feeling a little breathless.

"Do you like pancakes?" he asked after a while, startling me.

"Um…" I couldn't help but smile at his unexpected question. "Yeah, I like pancakes."

He nodded and stood up, turning to hold his hand out to me.

"Come on." I placed my hand in his and allowed him to pull me up. "I'll make you pancakes."

He let go of my hand, and I watched him stride across the deck, toward the back door. I laughed when I grasped the actual context of the situation.

"Edward, are you offering me pancakes as an apology for my sore lady parts?"

He stopped and turned around to face me. With a soft laugh, a wide grin spread across his lips, showcasing white and straight perfect teeth. It hit me that this was the first time I'd heard him laugh and seen him smile like that. He had a beautiful smile and a charming laugh, refreshing reprieves from his usual stoic demeanor. The way his plush lips curved and the corners of his eyes crinkled made butterflies flutter in my stomach. Any opportunity I got to see that look on his face would be a treat.

"Yeah, I guess I am."

I followed him back into the kitchen and helped him find all the ingredients he'd need, but that's as far as my help went. Once he had everything laid out in front of him, I took my coffee and perched myself on one of the barstools at the counter, facing him while he mixed the batter.

We didn't speak for a while. I just watched him as he worked, marveling at the ease with which he moved. He seemed very comfortable in a kitchen, and that intrigued me. When he glanced up at me, he did a bit of a double take.

"What?" I asked.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

I didn't realize until he'd said something that I had a big grin on my face.

"It's just crazy that 24 hours ago, I'd barely even spoken to you, and now here we are."

"Yes. Here we are."

I leaned forward a little more as I took a sip of my coffee.

"I don't know anything about you ‒ like, anything at all ‒ and now you're making me morning-after pancakes."

He took the mixing bowl over to the stove, giving me a profile view to appreciate, and poured batter onto the pan.

"They don't have to be morning-after pancakes, you know," he commented, putting the bowl down. "They can just be pancakes."

"Are you ignoring the first part of my statement on purpose?"

"No. Did you ask me a question?" he retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Don't you think I should know you a little better?"

"It's best you don't."

"I don't even know how old you are."

He leaned against the counter with one hand, turning to face me straight on.

"Older."

That didn't surprise me. He didn't look _old_, but he did look older than me.

"How _much_ older?"

"Nine years."

"So 32?"

"Yes."

"You told me before that you're not from around here. Where are you from?"

He sighed, picked up the spatula, and began prodding at the edges of the pancakes, which were starting to bubble.

"I'm not up for a game of twenty questions, Bella."

"Just tell me where you're from. It's not like it's an intense question."

"I'm from Chicago."

"Why'd you move here?"

"Bella…" he warned.

"Last question."

He looked over at me, and I gave him what I hoped came across as a charming smile.

"I spent every summer here growing up. My mom is from Houston, and I actually lived here for a year with my grandparents when I was in high school." He paused for a moment as he started flipping the pancakes. "When I decided to leave Chicago, this seemed like a good place to land for awhile as I figure things out."

That made me want to ask more questions, but I'd already promised him that would be my last; I didn't want to give him the third degree. I'd have to sneak any further questions in little by little.

"I've never been to Chicago."

He didn't respond to that. I didn't want to force conversation, so I let it go. I allowed silence to settle between us. It didn't take long for him to place a steaming plate of pancakes in front of me and another in front of the stool beside me for himself. He told me they'd be better with real maple syrup, which I insisted we were using, and then we argued over the accolades of Aunt Jemima while I sliced up my pancakes and smothered them in her sticky sweetness.

Notoriously vocal in my appreciation of good food, I wasn't even aware of the sounds I made as I dug into those perfect little cakes of divine fluffiness.

"You're gonna make me hard if you keep moaning like that," he commented conversationally, making me cough up the last piece of pancake I'd been in the process of swallowing. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I squeaked, setting my fork down.

"Mmm… There it is again. That beautiful, tempting blush…" He reached over to brush the backs of his fingers across my cheek, and my breath hitched at the contact. "You are a temptress, Bella."

The whole thing felt like a dream. Waking up that morning, I couldn't have imagined I'd be eating pancakes with Bright Eyes and listening to him say such things to me. I wished I had the whole day to sit there with him and have a real conversation for the first time. I didn't, but I did have an idea.

"You know, you bruised me last night," I commented, recalling the markings I'd noticed on my hip while dressing.

"I did?" he asked, his hand falling away from my face.

I found the troubled look on his face to be comforting.

"Yes."

"Where? Show me."

I slid off my bar stool to stand beside him, and he watched with intent as I lifted my shirt a bit and tugged my leggings down just far enough to expose the faint markings on my hip. His eyebrows furrowed together as he looked, lifting his hand to line his fingers up with where they'd dug into me with too much force. When his gaze shifted up to meet mine, his eyes looked remorseful.

"I'm sorry."

I pulled my pants back up and dropped my shirt while he pulled his hand away.

"It's okay. I bruise easily. I'm just showing you in hopes that you'll feel bad and cook me dinner like you did breakfast to apologize for my sore lady bits."

He smiled the beautiful smile again, and my heart sputtered.

"Trying to be smooth, huh?"

"Is it working?"

"Yeah, it is."

I smiled victoriously.

"So what time is dinner, then?"

His eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Seven."

"Okay. Well, I have to get ready for work now." I took my dishes to the sink, leaving them to soak in water. "Thanks for the pancakes," I commented to him over my shoulder, leaving the kitchen.

.

.

.

.

"Holy shit, Bella." Angela blinked at me, shaking her head as if she couldn't compute what she'd just heard. "I saw you less than 24 hours ago, and you just gave me, like, three years of information!"

She'd gone back to her regular shift, which meant we weren't together for the time being. Even though my shift ended when she came in, I'd lingered behind to fill her in on everything that had happened once I'd gotten home. After strolling in, she screamed when I casually told her I'd had sex with Bright Eyes. Thankfully, work had been slow, because I'd had her undivided attention while I unloaded my shit on her.

"Trust me. I know. I'm still trying to process it all myself."

"Okay, well, not gonna lie. When you said he just left you and locked himself away in his room, my first instinct told me that wasn't a good sign."

"Yeah," I scoffed. "Tell me about it."

"But that's void now after this morning. I mean, that doesn't even matter now."

"It doesn't?"

"No!" she insisted. "Fucking Tall, Dark, and Shady is clearly the best thing you could have done."

"It is?"

"Yes. You guys actually talked for the first time. You got more information about him this morning than you've gotten in a whole week of living with the guy."

"That's true," I conceded.

"Plus, he made you pancakes. That's adorable."

"He's making me dinner, too."

Her eyes widened, and she squealed with excitement.

"Are you serious? He offered to make you dinner, too? All for a sore pussy?"

I grinned, knowing she would flip out at what I told her next.

"Actually, I _told_ him he'd be making me dinner."

"What? Shut up! You did not!"

"Oh, I did."

She lifted her hand up, and I slapped it in a high five, laughing.

"Hell yeah, Bella! I'm loving this new you!"

"Yeah." I nodded, unable to stop smiling even if I wanted to. "I am, too. You know, when I went to sleep last night, I felt pretty nervous about what had happened. I kept thinking maybe I'd made a mistake. But after this morning, I kind of feel like the ball is in my court."

"That's because it is, girl."

"It's good, feeling like I have the upper hand."

"I bet!" she giggled. "I won't see you tomorrow, so you'll have to text me and give me all the deets about dinner."

"Hey, speaking of which. When will I see you again? I meant to bring your dress and shoes, but I forgot."

"Oh, that's no big deal. I can ge–" She stopped, a mischievous smirk pulling at her lips. "Wait, I have an idea."

"What?"

"Why don't I just come by your place to get them? That way I can meet Tall, Dark, and Shady!"

I laughed at her enthusiasm.

"Yeah, if you want to meet him that bad, that's fine with me."

"Of course I want to meet him. I need to get a visual."

"Okay, well, how about you come by tonight after work?" The door opened, and I glanced over my shoulder to see a couple walk in. "Damn it. I didn't get a chance to ask you about what happened with Lauren last night."

"Oh, God. That's a long story. It might be best I just wait and tell you tonight, anyway."

"Uh oh. That doesn't so good."

She sighed as she tied her apron around her waist.

"It's… complicated."

"Okay. Well, text me when you get off."

"I will. Have a good dinner with your man."

She winked at me, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"He's not my man, Angela."

"Not yet."

My heart raced at the thought.

**.**

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**A/N**

**P.S. Will I be lucky enough to meet any of you at TFMU in Philly at the end of the month?!**


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